The Anomaly
by grim grace
Summary: Katherine was fascinated by Emma Hamilton, and respectively, the vervain that ran naturally through her veins. But she did not have the time to monitor the girl. So the task fell to Damon Salvatore. DAMON/OC. STEFAN/ELENA. ALARIC/JENNA
1. The Anomoly

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

"Parties aren't anything like they used to be."

Katherine's voice held the tiniest hint of regret as the surveyed the beating party scene. Her eyes were narrowed as she stood on the balcony, above the dance floor. The floor of the balcony was grated, and she smirked slightly as a less refined human girl stumbled through the grate on her heels.

"I thought you liked the modern idea of a night out?"

Her company for the night was a young blonde, who Katherine had thought interesting when she met him four months earlier. He was less interesting now, she had decided, and soon she would be gone from his life, or he would be gone altogether.

"You have no idea the passion of a formal dance," she told him. "I was the centre of the ball. With every eye on me. It was…" she glanced at the gyrating humans below her, smiling to herself. "…Exhilarating."

Her blonde friend grinned. "I'm sure it was," he agreed with her, even though she knew that he wasn't paying attention. He was simply trying to make her happy—no matter what he thought.

And honestly, she thought, why wouldn't he want her happy?

But as her blonde toy leant in, closing his eyes while his lips puckered and his hand pressing her hand closer to him, she frowned in distaste. Walking gracefully away from him, so that he grasped at thin air stupidly for a moment, she walked to the top of the stairs, and began to descend the stairs. Blonde hurried after her.

At the bottom of the stairs, Katherine met the third member of her recent company. This one was more dark—a surly eyebrow line and an even darker mop of hair on his head.

"We have a problem." He declared quietly, leaning forward and whispering in his ear. Katherine caught the cold look that her blonde friend—Chad—sent her darker haired friend—Brett, and smirked.

"What problem?" Chad barked, leaning forward and pulling Katherine rather obviously from Brett.

"Outside. I was grabbing myself a snack, and something went wrong…"

Chad snorted.

And as much as Katherine enjoyed watching boys vie for her, Brett was correct. This _was _a problem.

Her eyes narrowed at Brett. "Take me there." She ordered him. "_Now."_

Chad snickered again.

She pushed her way through the large, and extremely full club. Everyone around her was caught up in his or her own little world. But her presence upset the balance, and boy's (and girl's) wondering eyes quickly found their way to her—widening at her uncontested beauty. If they had been less self-involved they would have noticed more than just her face and body.

They would have noticed the way she walked.

Or how the retro looking couple in the corner, who Katherine had spotted upon entering, were not just kissing their dance partner's necks.

But they didn't notice. They simply stared.

Of course they stared.

Katherine strutted through the crowd, revelling in the turning heads and the obvious stares, and basking in the intoxicating smell of the innocent blood that pumped through the veins of all the excited, distracted party go-ers.

"Oh, I miss the old days." She sighed, dramatically, as she pushed her way out the front door. "I am so _sick _of the nineties."

Chad quickly directed them to the alleyway, where Katherine was greeted with a sight that anyone else would have seen as horrific.

She grinned.

The couple—married, as indicated by their golden wedding bands—lay on a heap in the middle of the alley. Their necks practically ripped off because of the clumsy bites from her latest creations.

"I don't get it. So you didn't save us some. What's the issue?" Chad frowned, confused.

"Be quiet." Katherine ordered him.

Because Katherine had seen the problem. The small sobbing girl sitting, curled up and crying in the corner, hugging her knees and ignoring the tears that were streaming down her face. On her neck, a bleeding bite mark.

The problem would seem to be the fact that this little girl was very distinctly _alive._

"You told me, if I tasted anything off, to stop drinking." Brett was stammering. "And I'm not sure what it was—but I—"

Katherine had heard enough. She made her way quickly to the child, bending over and pushing the girls head out of the way. She inhaled sharply, and the recoiled.

"Vervain." She concluded. "There is vervain in her blood."

"Vervain?"

Katherine didn't pay attention to who had muttered the confused remark, and simply rolled her eyes. "The herb," she expanded tiredly. "That acts as a poison to us."

They seemed to notice the simply pissed off tone to Katherine's voice, and kept quiet for the rest of her examination.

"What's your name?"

Katherine stared into the young girl's eyes, keeping in mind that the presence of the vervain meant that she had to use her human charm to get the young girl to open up to her.

"The bad man's gone away now." She said. "My friend's taken care of him."

The small blonde girl glanced up to fearfully look at Brett and Chad. A simple hand gesture from Katherine had Chad slamming his fist into Brett's stomach—which seemed to satisfy the young girl.

"So what's your name?" Katherine repeated.

The little girl looked up at Katherine, with a small trusting smile, her big eyes wide and glistening with tears. "Emma." She whispered.

Katherine stored that in her vast memory.

"Why couldn't he hurt you?"

The girl just shook her head. "I taste bad." She simpered.

"And why is that?" Katherine asked, leaning forward.

"Because Daddy says I'm special." She told her. "And that no one can hurt me."

**xXxXx**

"She'll stay here." Katherine looked around the small third story flat that had once belonged to Brett. "You'll watch her."

Brett scoffed.

Katherine was at his neck in seconds. Pressing the insolent boy against the wall she snarled.

"This girl had vervain pumping through her _veins,_" she hissed with narrowed eyes. "She's lost enough blood to kill anyone her age, and she's _still alive._ Do you understand what that means?"

She turned to look at the young girl, before looking back at Brett.

"It _means_ that she is special. Something is different about her. And I intend to find out what."

"Well then," Brett said—with the confidence that inspired Katherine to change him in the first place. "I'm not watching her. I didn't like kids before—and I definitely don't like this one."

She needed the girl to grow. And she clearly had the time to wait for the girl to grow—but she wasn't going to wait around and watch the child grow at such a slow pace.

And as angry as it made her to listen to him disobeying her, Katherine saw the point. Within hours Brett would take another go at the girl, and probably incapacitate himself. And it wasn't as though Brett and Chad kept to themselves—they had enough enemies to take advantage of them being in a bad state.

But she certainly wasn't going to stay and watch the girl grow. She needed someone who was capable of looking after a child without needing to know of the girl's uniqueness. Someone who would do anything for Katherine. Someone who had passion, but enough power to protect who might become one of Katherine's greatest assets.

And she had just the someone in mind.

Of course, contacting Damon Salvatore to do the job would be difficult—seeing as he was of the mind that she was trapped beneath the ground in that ruined town in Virginia. But she would manage—she always knew how to manoeuvre herself in a favourable fashion.

**xXxXx**

**So, I wasn't quite sure about starting a Vampire Diaries fic—specifically a Damon/OC fic—but it's defiantly not a self-insert—if I get anywhere near Mary-Sue-dom, feel free to let me know and tell me to get my head out of my ass. **

**I had a bit of an issue trying to catch Katherine's personality. I'm sure after we see more of her in Series 2, I'll catch her personality some more. But she won't feature again for a while, so hopefully I'll improve. **

**From now on, by the way, it will be first person from Emma's POV. I hope you guys like it, and please review and give me your thoughts. **

**Cheers. G. **


	2. The Creep Denomination

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV_

"So you're telling me, in the entire time you've known him, you've never thought him to be the _tiniest_ bit creepy. At all."

In reality, Cameron's ever present suspicion about Damon and what he was up to amused me.

Since day one, when I started grade seven at a large confronting new high school, and my new friend Cameron—who I had met in study hall, first period, when he leant me a pencil—had seen Damon waiting to pick me up in his car of the month, he had been suspicious of my guardian, and his intentions.

It never mattered how many times I attempted to reassure him that Damon was basically the only person I trusted in the world for half of my life, and that he would never do anything to hurt me.

Cameron had issues with the guy, and I wasn't going to change them.

"Never," I answered coolly, while I plucked my chemistry book from his locker, before he closed the door and locked it. "Thanks for hanging onto this, by the way."

Cameron pulled a face.

"Seriously?" He muttered, shrugging off my thanks, and going right back to his rant about Damon. I began to walk down the hall, listening to what he was saying with a smirk on my face. "Not once?"

I laughed glancing at him and watching his eyes roll at my carelessness. "Never, ever, _ever._" I told him with a grin.

Lily, my unfortunate neighbour and occasional study buddy, always said that the amount of attention Cameron payed to me was simply an outlet for him to express his undying affection for me. I always hastened to assure her that Cameron and I weren't just friends because he was 'in love with me' but because, in a way, I loved him just as much. It wasn't a relationship built from pity, or a relationship that I resented—I relied on Cameron, and he relied on me.

"But he's a _creep."_

I laughed loudly at this, shaking my head as I navigated my way around all the other students who were focused on their lives.

"He's not a creep," I reasoned with Cameron. "He's my _guardian._"

That was a bit of a lie. Damon was not, and had no intention to become, my official guardian in the eyes of the law. When my parents had died (I was about four at the time) there had been a bit of a complication concerning who would look after me, but Damon told me that he had sorted it out and he was allowed to look after me. The same complications arose when I started high school, and both Damon and I were re-evaluated. There had been talk about taking me away, but once again, Damon had requested he talk privately with the evaluator. There had been raised voices and harsh words, before suddenly, minutes later Damon came out and told me that I could stay with him.

But Cameron didn't need to know that.

"That doesn't make him less of a creep." Cameron informed me. "Why is he your guardian, anyway? How are you actually related?"

This time I didn't feel it was necessary to lie.

"We're not." I told Cameron simply. "He's an old family friend."

Cameron stared at me. "You're not even _related."_ He told me, as though I hadn't just volunteered him the information. "And he's looked after you since you were _how old?_ _Four?_ Isn't that worthy of the 'creep' denomination?"

I laughed again.

Initially, Cameron had bothered me with his constant hounding for information about Damon. It had been something personal for a long time. But now—five years on from when he started asking questions—I was content to just let him vent his frustrations.

"No." I chuckled. "But it may be worthy of a 'savoir' denomination. What about a 'protector of the weak' denomination?"

Cameron scoffed.

"Come on. How do you even know the guy?"

We had reached my locker now, where I needed to grab my math book and my favourite lucky pen for the test I had second period. I began to focus on turning the knob, rather than Cameron's questions. 12…19…32…

I yanked on the lock. It didn't come open. I cursed.

"Em?"

I looked back at Cameron. "Sorry?"

Cameron rolled his eyes, this time _he _was amused by _my_ antics. "I asked, how you even know Damon?"

I shrugged. "I've known him all my life, Cam. He was asked to take care of me when my parents died."

Cameron nodded, brushing my answer aside while I tried my lock again. 12… 19… 32… I pulled down on the lock.

_Dammit. _

Scrunching up my face, I returned the lock to zero, before inhaling and starting again for the third time.

"I mean, how did you know him before that? You must have been _acquainted _with him if your parents trusted him enough to leave you in his care, right?"

The question had always bothered me. Because to be honest, I didn't have a clue. How Damon knew me or my family before their deaths was a mystery to me—and I knew well enough by now that Damon didn't want to talk about it. The few times I had asked him why it was, exactly, that he looked after me, he disappeared for weeks, before returning and telling me stonily that he didn't want to discuss it.

Of course, he said it with his cold smile that made me nod and sit down.

"Em?"

I had searched for the answer in my parent's old things once. Following the discovery of their bodies—in an alley way between the old nineties night club, and then even older theatre where they were last seen—their things had been taken to storage as evidence. Then, when the case was declared 'cold and unsolvable' by the police (or in other words: too much of a hassle to worry about,) I was given their things.

"Emma?"

And Damon wasn't in there. Not in any of the photos, diary entries, calendar dates, contact books or even on their pre-planned fifth wedding anniversary guest list that they had been in the midst of writing.

"Jeez, Emma, you alright?"

He just wasn't there.

Like my parents didn't know him at all.

I pulled down hard on the lock, listening to it click open with a degree of relief. Frowning, and clenching the stubborn lock in my hand I pulled the door open (only venting my anger _a little_.)

"Whoa. Crap." Cameron exclaimed as I stared at my locker.

My completely empty locker. My books were gone, hell, even the decorations had been pulled down. Even the jumped that I had left in there yesterday afternoon, and forgotten to take home.

The only thing that sat in my locker was my favourite pen. Purple, with a large plastic clown head on the end then lit up when you pressed the pen to a piece of paper, and sitting on top a slip of paper.

"This is _not_ happening," I moaned, as I reached in and grabbed my pen and the piece of paper.

"What's it say?" Cameron asked quietly.

_Good luck, Emma. _

**xXxXx**

By the end of the school day, my spirits were considerably less cheery than they had been in the morning. Despite the fact that my locker had been _robbed_ by someone who clearly thought they were hysterically funny for doing so—I had been forced to take the math test that I had been stressing about. My lucky pen, with the illuminated clown head just hadn't provided me with enough luck and I had finished the test with about three questions not finished, and the other few all messy and probably incorrect.

"Kill me now," I moaned as I stepped out the steps of the front door.

Cameron followed me in step. "I refuse." He told me bluntly. "You're far too beautiful for me to commit such a heinous crime."

I glowered at him. "Stop trying to make me feel better." I ordered sulkily, as I folded my arms across my chest and sat down on the wall that surrounded our school. "I want to die."

Cameron rolled his eyes.

"Don't be such a drama queen." He told me, stoically. "It was one, stupid maths test. Stop sulking."

"I've been ROBBED!" I protested sullenly, throwing my arms up in exasperation.

Cameron rolled his eyes again.

"Of all your _text books._" He told me. "_For school. _We don't even use those things anyway. The only thing that's _really_ missing is that cool jumped that Damon gave you."

Incorrect.

Damon had not given me that beautiful leather jacket.

I had _taken_ that beautiful leather jacket, with every intent of giving it back. Something that was clearly not going to happen _now._

He was going to kill me.

I told Cameron this, and then spent the next five minutes glowering at him while he attempted to contain his extremely _non-manly_ giggles.

"This is not funny." I told him. "He will _kill_ me. And it will be _gruesome._"

Cameron continued to snicker at my misfortune, but straightened up enough so that he could talk at the same time.

"Oh come on, Em," he coughed, between his giggles. "He hardly the _murdering_ type."

I stared at him, annoyed that when it came down to it, he could change his opinions so quickly. "You were just trying to convince me he was a CREEP!" I told him angrily.

He chuckled. "Yeah, but not a murdering psychopath."

I rolled my eyes. I was finding it very easy to imagine Damon murdering people. More specifically, _me. _Because I let his jacket get stolen, after I had already stolen it.

Cameron sobered up slightly at that. "Speaking of the insane psycho," he said, still smirking slightly. "Look who's just arrived."

I swallowed, turning hesitantly to see Damon's car pulled up at the side of the road—and him sitting in the front seat, a pair of sunglasses on his head while he stared blatantly at me. He didn't usually pick me up. In fact, I usually only saw him once or twice a fortnight.

"Oh god," I moaned. "He knows. He's psychic and he's figured it out."

Cameron laughed, before pushing me off the wall towards Damon's car. "Face the consequences of your decision, gorgeous." He told me, with a grin. "If anything it'll be entertaining."

I have a terrible best friend.

Glowering at him one more time, before adjusting my bag on my shoulder, I began to approach to Damon's car. He was drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, while he waited for me.

He knew. He _so_ knew.

I reached the door quickly enough. "Hey Damon," I greeted him with a large, overly exaggerated smile.

Damon chuckled. "Get in," he told me, motioning to my seat.

I did so quickly, doing up my seatbelt, and then sitting silently in the front seat. Damon pulled away from the curb, giving me mere seconds to send Cameron one more frantic look, before I froze in my seat again.

"Something wrong?" Damon asked, smirking slightly to himself.

Oh, he _so_ knew.

"Nope." I said quickly.

"I got you something—it's in the back seat." Damon told me casually, surprising me by letting the reasons behind my nervousness drop.

I frowned, puzzled, and swivelled in my seat to see what it was.

Seven textbooks lay there—Maths, Psychology, English, History, Modern Day Lit, Biology and Geography. A few posters sat beside them—the regular Hollywood celebrities that graced every girl's bedroom walls.

I turned quickly to stare at Damon, checking what jacket he was wearing. Old leather, that smelt distinctly of Damon and a studded zip at the collar, that I had sewed on when I was bored.

"You _creep."_

**xXxXx**

**Thoughts? Queries? Comments? **

**I hope you guys all approve of the way I've created Emma and Damon's relationship so far. At the moment, he's supposed to be this mysterious protector figure in Em's eyes—and as you can probably tell, she doesn't have a bad thought about him. She is also entirely unaware of his post mortem status, so that should be interesting, no? **

**I'd love reviews giving me your thoughts—and what you think I can do to improve the story. **

**Also, I thought I'd let you know, Cameron isn't only going to be appearing in this chapter. He'll be a minor character for the course of this fic. **

**Thanks for reading this far guys! Reviews for the first chapter were promising, and I'd love from more feedback. **

**Cheers. G. **


	3. The Obligations

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

New York, Maple Apartment Complex, Apartment 2C,

September 14th, 1997

_Dearest extraordinarily manly man journal of mine,_

_I am so terribly upset. I've killed people many, many people. And now I am doomed to sit alone in a dark room and brood about my terrible life, while I deny my basic instincts what they want. _

_And now I must stay here and brood, and brood, and fix my terrible nineties hair-do, and work on my brooding eyebrows some more. And then I'll be brooding some more. Brooding on Monday and Tuesday and every day after that while my better looking, amazingly charming and suave older brother tells me what I should be doing—because he's so much more alarmingly intelligent than I—_

How Stefan could sit, day after day and day in a dark room and right stuff like this, Damon would never know. Unfortunately, the amazing girls with the grunge look going for them that lived in the room below his were 'off-limits' according to his brother.

Damon pulled a face, and scrunched up the paper that he had been writing on. He threw it at the window, where it bounced to the ground and settled. Life would be so much better if Katherine were still alive. Damon would have been with her in the after life, had Stefan been so high and mighty when they had been turned.

But alas, his darling brother hadn't been quite as ethically weighed down as he was now.

To be honest, Damon was bored.

For starters, even if Stefan was only in the flat beside him, moping about something saintly and equally high and mighty. He probably felt bad for the cat he killed for his dinner a few evenings before. Something along those unfortunate lines. The only bit of fun Damon had had in _days_ was sending Stefan 'Mr. Fluffy's' collar to Stefan, who then went into a tailspin of angst when he realised that his meal had been a loved household pet.

But even Stefan was over that now. It wasn't like he provided more entertainment when he brooded. It was amusing initially, sure—but now it was beginning to weight down on Damon's nerves.

And that was why he was here. In this tiny apartment in New York, as the letter had requested, staring down some fledgling with a greasy blonde haircut and bad eye makeup.

"Ah, right—you must be—"

Because of his insatiable boredom, Damon found that more that five words from this tosser's mouth would be too much. Instantly he had the fledge pressed by his neck against the wall.

"Who are you, and what am I doing here?" he demanded.

The fledge coughed. "Damon… Salvatore_._" The blonde coughed out. "_Katherine_…"

Clearly the stupid young vampire had no idea who he was talking to. To think that mentioning Katherine would stop him hurting the young vamp was moronic. She was underground, and never to be seen again. She was clearly not the key to changing his mind.

"Sent me…"

That on the other hand was enough to do the trick. Instead of simply choking the boy, Damon lifted him in the air and threw him into the opposite wall.

"That name is not one you want to drop lightly around me, kid." Damon snarled. "And I happen to know she's been dead for over one hundred years."

The blonde boy avoided Damon's eye, and simply moaned before rolling on his stomach.

"I," the child hacked. "I have a letter. She sent a friend of mine. In 1864." He coughed out.

Damon, who was already advancing on the vampire, froze. And then, seconds later, he had the vampire against the wall again, this them help up by the collar of his dirty leather jacket, rather than his windpipe.

"What. Letter?" He demanded.

The vampire motioned clumsily for a piece of dirty paper, resting on the desk.

Damon was there in seconds, the letter grasped firmly in his hand.

_To my Damon,_ it read, _you will receive this letter some time in the future, can I not give it to you myself._

Damon skimmed the rest of the letter, before holding it firmly in his fist—and pausing for a moment to dwell on its concepts. Katherine had visited him from beyond the grave. And he loved her and always would.

_Never drink from her. Do not try to kill her. She is far too important. If you truly love me, you will do this for me. _

"Where's this girl, then?" he asked the blonde vampire.

The blonde, of course, had taken his distraction as an opportunity to flee, but Damon didn't see that as much of an issue. Lifting his head up to the air and inhaling swiftly, he instantly knew where the young girl was.

He strolled through the apartment, making his way to the room where he could smell her pumping blood. He opened the door, and instantly saw the little girl, who was smiling up at him with her blonde pigtails making her look rather appetising. In her hand, she clenched a teddy bear.

"Are you going to look after me?" she asked him.

Damon's fist tightened around the letter.

_If you truly love me, you will do this for me. _

He bent down and smiled. "What's your name?"

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV_

Once I had sufficiently expressed my anger at Damon for breaking into my locker, stealing my things, and basically being the reason for my miserable excuse for a math test, with a few punches to his arm that didn't seem to effect him at all, but had definitely bruised my hand, I slumped back in the car seat, and took the time to realised that we had been driving far longer than we should have been.

Also, we weren't exactly in the city any more.

"What the…" I said, straightening up and peering out the window. "Where are we going?"

Damon smirked. "I was wondering how long it would take you to notice." He commented lightly.

I scowled at him, noticing the quick and easy deflection of my questions.

"Where. Are we _going?"_ I demanded.

Damon shrugged. "Away."

I stared at him. "For how long?" I demanded.

Damon was quiet for a few seconds, before looking over at me with a faked thoughtful expression. "I would say we're staying indefinitely."

_Indefinitely! _

"What?" I protested immediately. "We can't just up and LEAVE. What about all my stuff? It's still at home? What about my friends? What about Cameron? What about—"

"—Can we go back to the part where you were hitting me?" Damon requested, interrupting me. "At least _then_ you weren't talking."

I glowered at him.

He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, _relax."_ He told me with a frown. "Your stuff is in the trunk. I did that fun little errand before I cleaned out your locker—though I'm glad I remembered to go through your locker. When, exactly did I lend you this jacket?"

I spluttered for a moment.

Damon smirked.

"The jacket is…" I attempted to pull together a plausible response. "…The jacket is irrelevant! Where are you taking me! _Stop the bloody car!_ This is kidnapping!"

Damon pulled over so suddenly that I grabbed onto the dashboard to stop my head colliding with the window. By the time I had recovered, Damon had turned in his seat and was facing me.

"Kidnapping?" He echoed incredulously. "Really?

I found myself feeling a little more embarrassed about my statement that I had been when I said it. I flushed, but stuck to my guns, sticking my nose and the air and raising my eyebrows challengingly.

"Yes. Kidnapping."

Damon rolled his eyes. "I'm your _guardian._"

Oh.

Yeah.

"Fine then," I sulked. "I'll call Kid's Helpline, or something." I threatened. "They're very mindful of adoption cases, I'll have you know."

Damon rolled his eyes and started the car again.

I frowned.

"Can you just tell me where we're going?"

"Virginia." Damon answered, deciding to be momentarily helpful.

I was silent for a moment. "Virginia?" I repeated, incredulously. "As in the computer chips and 'Old Dominion' Virginia?"

Damon rolled his eyes again, moving his whole head with them as he slumped to look at me.

"Would you stop complaining?" He demanded. "Check out the scenery? Don't you like the pretty trees?

I continued to glower at him.

"Look," he said, clearly not liking my angry stare, "Something's come up." He said ominously. "Something which means that I wouldn't have been able to drive all the way out to see you and still deal with it. And since leaving you is not an option, you're just going to have to come _with _me."

I frowned, trying to think of another possible way I could protest, but it all made sense to me.

I wasn't _happy_ about it, sure enough.

But it made sense.

"Fine," I deflated. "Then what's the name of my new home town?"

Damon smirked slightly when I muttered the words 'home town,' much to my confusion, but if he was entertained by something he didn't care to share.

"It's called Mystic Falls."

**xXxXx**

**So, I'm finding it increasingly difficult to peg Damon's character. Some help or advice would be greatly appreciated. **

**Reviews have been great, and the feedback is really helping me—and I'm glad there are a few people out there, other than me, who are interested in my fic. I hope it lives up to expectations. **

**Please review! **

**xx G. **


	4. The Change

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV._

_TO: Cameron Rogers (BabeMagnet_);_

_FROM: Me! ()_

_SUBJECT: Sorry!_

_Hey Cam, _

_Sorry I've been AWOL for the last few days. Damon decided that we're moving to Virginia—trust me, when I say _I know_—and we've been driving, arriving and settling in for the past few days. I've already been signed up at the local school here (what can I say? Damon's an organised guy when he wants to be) and it looks like the decisions been made. _

_Damon says that I'll be able to come and visit you every now and again, and you're still my best friend, so I promise to talk to you as often as I can. Plus, new school? I'm going to need emotional support so make sure you have money on your phone, and your texting fingers ready. _

_I'm so sorry—I'm really going to miss our rants about what a bad guy Damon is, as well as everything else. _

_Talk to you soon? _

_xx Em. _

I signed off the computer after I had made sure the email had sent, and deflated a little. Damon had bought me a room at a local motel—saying that I would be living there indefinitely, until he could negotiate getting me an apartment. It wasn't a bad motel—but it suited the small town I was suddenly in. It was on the main street, and opposite _the Grill_ that looked like the local place for kids my age to hang out.

I frowned at the small room that Damon had purchased for me all by myself.

Now, as quaint as I'm sure all small towns are, it did mean that there wasn't much to do. Of course, I could take a walk down the street that was suddenly my home, but I wasn't really in the mood to do that.

I slumped down on the bed that sat in the middle of the room, right in front of the small TV that Damon had payed extra for.

I flicked it on, and it buzzed white noise for a moment, before settling on a picture. The sound kicked in a few seconds after that.

"And the town rejoices tonight, at the speedy recovery of Vicki Donovan, who was attacked by an animal just last week. A happy ending for once, George?" The anchorwoman looked over at her co-host, who agreed with her and went on to talk about the sports results for the night.

Wow.

Animal attacks.

Definitely not in Kansas any more.

I flicked the television of, frowning at the black screen.

I was so not in the mood to stay still. I was in the mood to go out and do something. Meet people. And, by his usual calendar, I wouldn't have to deal with Damon for a while, so I could happily go out and mingle.

In fact, since Damon had left the hotel room telling me that I should, under no circumstances, invite anyone into this room, I had wanted to leave.

I made up my mind quickly, and jumped off my bed, grabbing the key from the bedside table, and then grabbing my own leather jacket from my cupboard, swinging it onto my shoulders. I was out the door as soon as I could, locking it and then stowing the key in my pocket.

I walked to the front desk, and leant against the counter for a moment, until the owner of the motel came out.

"Hi," she greeted me with a kind smile. "What can I do for you?"

I introduced myself—since Damon had hastily left that out when we got the key, and asked where I should go to meet people. Wendy—that was her name—was happy to help and told me that my initial suspicions had been right—_The Grill_ was the main social scene, followed closely—for people of my age—by the functions and events that the school threw.

The school that I had already been enrolled in—keep in mind.

I thanked Wendy, before stowing my hands in my pockets and making my way out into the cold, Virginia air. I quickly crossed the street and made my quick way into _the Grill. _Before I went into the pub, I noticed the _Help Wanted_ sign hanging on the door.

That could be something to do here. I could be a waitress, if I wanted to. Damon couldn't pay for me and my things for ever. And it would certainly be a way to waste the time. This didn't seem like the most exciting place, after all.

The atmosphere of the place consumed me quickly, and I grinned. It was strange, being here so suddenly, when mere days ago I had been back at home, in school. But I couldn't just ignore it. I would have to deal with it.

"Hi," I greeted the barman, as I seated myself at the stool. "Who do I talk to about the job sign in the window?" I asked.

The boy behind the bar—tall and good looking, with dark hair and soulful eyes—smiled charmingly at me. "I can grab you an application form, if you like," He told me.

I smiled and nodded, "That'd be cool. I'm Emma, by the way."

The hot bartender smiled at me. "Ben," he introduced himself quickly. "You new in town?"

I nodded, as I took a pen he offered me and began filling in the form he handed me. "Yeah, moved here, yesterday, very much so against my will."

Ben grinned. "Yeah? So you don't like the charming Mystic Falls?"

I laughed. "It's… _quaint."_

Ben laughed out loud at that one—a strong, full laugh. "Ouch," he declared. "What was that? An insult, or a compliment?"

I wasn't even sure.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Ben asked, leaning forward and smirking. I laughed, looking up from the application I was filling out and nodding. He motioned down the application. "You don't really need to fill that out. You're the first person who's wanted the job, and that sign's been up for about a month now. If you want, you can go chat to our other waitress, Vicki—she can probably show you the ropes."

I grinned at him, frowning down at the application.

"So I don't need this at all?"

he shook his head with a cheeky grin. "Nope."

"I just filled it out though." I held up the offending form, smirking slightly as Ben grinned.

He laughed. "Fine. I'll take it. But go and chat to Vicki. She's just outside the kitchen." He pointed to the doors at the end of the bar, where an attractive brunette was standing, talking to two boys—one blonde, and one with darker skin. "That's Tyler and Matt," Ben said, when he caught my gaze on them. "They're on the football team. You probably want to know them."

He caught my eye and grinned, as I grinned back.

"I'll keep that in mind then," I told him. "I'm a sucker for a quarterback."

Ben grinned and leaned forward. "Did I mention I was on the team since my sophomore year, and graduated last year with three grand final wins in my back pocket?"

I laughed out loud. "Really? Quarterback?"

He laughed, and nodded.

I pushed myself off the stool, still grinning at Ben, before pushing the application form towards him. "Make sure that gets to the top man, yeah?" I asked.

He nodded. "You can be sure I will," He assured me.

I grinned, and turned away—making my way to Vicki, and trying not to focus too much on the good looking bartender who was, to be sure, still watching me walk away.

I approached the other waitress, Vicki, quickly, with a smile on my face.

"Hi," I said, interrupting her conversations with the two younger footballers. "The bartender over there told me to talk to you about the waitress job."

Vicki stared at me incredulously for a moment. "Really? You want that job?"

I nodded. "You know. Short of cash. The age old story." I said with a shrug.

Vicki gave me a once over and, apparently deciding I was likeable enough from my appearance, smiled. "I'll show you around the back—and then when you get the job, I'll show you the ropes out here, okay?"

I nodded, grinning.

Before leading me out back, Vicki let her hand rest on the darker haired football player's arm. "Call me, okay?" she said, hopefully.

He nodded, before he and his friend turned on their heel and made their way slowly back to their booth.

Vicki grinned at me. "What's your name then?" She asked.

"Emma Hamilton." I introduced myself. "I just moved here."

Vicki's grin widened. "Well then, Emma Hamilton, welcome to Mystic Falls."

**xXxXx**

**So there's been some appearances of other character in this chapter, though, regrettably, no Damon Salvatore. As for Ben, I wasn't sure if he was bartender before he was turned or not, but I'm going to go with the idea that he was. So, as of this moment, he's not been turned by Anna. **

**Also, because of my unbelievable struggle with the characterisation, I'm having issues with Vicki—and I'll probably have issues with most other characters when they make their appearances. **

**Please, please, **_**please**_** give me feedback in reviews. They've been brilliant so far, so keep it up!**

**Cheers. G. **


	5. The Eyebrows

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV._

I yawned.

I had been rudely woken this morning to a suddenly blindingly bright light. Moaning loudly, I had grabbed the second pillow and slammed it over my eyes, seeking relief in the darkness. It was short lived.

Damon had quickly reached down and pulled the pillow from my eyes.

"Rise and shine, princess." He had said with one of his distinctly Damon smiles, tossing the pillow on the ground. "_You_ have school today."

Sitting up, and rubbing at my eyes, I frowned. "Not that this investment in my schooling career isn't appreciated—" Pfft. Lie. "—But what's with the sudden interest in parenting?"

To be honest, it was a bit of a refreshing change. When Damon showed interest, it showed just that. That he was _interested._ Like I wasn't just another errand he had to take care of.

But at that hour in the morning?

Not so nice.

I had arrived at school this morning, via a big yellow bus (since Damon said he couldn't drop me off himself.) I was armed only with a text from Cameron that read: _U right? Here if u need. Good luck. C, _and that in itself was rather confronting.

Cameron had been surprisingly accepting of my sudden disappearance. Apparently, he said in an email, he had always expected something like this to happen—and I wasn't his _only_ friend at school, so he'd be fine. That was a little upsetting, since Cameron had certainly been my only friend at that school, but he had also promised to come down and visit when he could, which had sated my selfish motives.

But I had found my student guide quickly enough—she wasn't exactly the most inconspicuous person in the world. Yesterday, I had gone in and received my schedule for class, as well as a map of the school and a 'buddy' to guide me around the school—a bouncy blonde called Caroline, who introduced herself with bright eyes and a keenness that made me grimace.

"This will be such a great opportunity for my Miss Mystic campaign," she told me speedily as she grasped at my arm. "Do you think that it would count if I tried to show more than one person around?"

I had stared at her with raised eyebrows.

She took my silence as confirmation and grinned at me—an alarmingly disarming smile that made me wonder why this girl thought she needed any help convincing people that she should be this '_Miss Mystic'_ character.

"Okay," Caroline said brightly. "So the main block is straight ahead, like we said yesterday, and that's where we have all mainstream classes, like History, English and Geography."

I nodded. We had gone over this at orientation yesterday.

"The gym is just down that path, but it's usually muddy down there, and I'm wearing Jimmy Choos. Before school, everyone usually hangs out in front of the school—and you know, at lunch and in free periods—whatever." She shrugged. "You don't want to be going down behind the school, because all the druggo's hang down there and they're _always_ lighting up."

Of course they were. Unfortunately, when I consulted with Caroline as to where Vicki would be—her being my only acquaintance at this school—Caroline had raised a single brow and glanced at the path that led behind the main block.

Oh.

"What do you have first?" She asked, changing the subject and electing not to judge me too harshly.

I consulted my timetable. "History." I said. "With Mr. Tanner?"

Caroline made a face. "Ew… I'm so glad I dropped that class. But I have a couple of friends, who can take you—do you know Elena and Bonnie?"

Of course I didn't know Elena and Bonnie.

"Of course you don't," Caroline answered for me. "I'm sorry—we don't get many new people around here."

I laughed slightly at that.

Caroline seemed to remember something at about that point. "Oh, speaking of new kids, I should probably prep you now."

I frowned. "Prep me?"

Caroline nodded. "Yeah. You're going to want to hook up with the new guy." I pulled a face. She laughed, taking it the wrong way. "Don't worry—everyone does. But he's so off the market."

"Yeah?" I laughed, with a grin.

She nodded again. "_Oh _yeah. My friend, Elena, that I was talking about before? In your history class? She's practically _claimed _him. It's actually pretty sad."

It was becoming more and more clear that Caroline was _that _girl. The strange thing was even with this new concept—I was finding it hard to dislike the girl.

So I laughed again. "Okay, good." I said, with a grin. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

Not that I'd ever look at anyone other than—

I stopped myself there, shaking my head before it even thought what I knew was coming. I was still for a moment, berating myself, before I let it pass.

Caroline wasn't really paying attention anyway.

"So, I was thinking," She continued. "Did you want to help me plan this year's carnival? I'm the chair for the committee, and I'm sure you want to start helping out with the school as soon as you can. Elena and Bonnie have pretty much gone M.I.A on my ass—so I could use the help?"

I agreed quickly, taking my mind of other stupid things.

"So," I said, anxious to keep conversation going. "What's this new guy's name?"

Caroline's suddenly suspicious gaze landed on me.

I held up my hands as though she had me at gunpoint, eyebrows high. "Just so I know who to avoid!" I reassured her.

She laughed.

"It's alright," Caroline shrugged. "You don't have a chance."

I laughed. This seemed to be Caroline's way.

"His name's Stefan Sal—"

The bell wrung, signalling the beginning of first period and I inhaled sharply. History. Mr Tanner.

Hot off-limits guy just had to wait.

I had a new school to take on.

**xXxXx**

As with any tyrannical history teacher, Mr. Tanner was as bad as Caroline had led me to believe. I glowered at him as he strolled around the front desk, spurting out random fact on the second world war.

"World war two ended in…?"

Well. Not only did I know the answer to that one, but I was pretty sure everyone else did too. I could see people avoiding Tanner's gaze, doodling the answer on their books, or just simply doodling on their books—like the pretty girl who was sitting a few seats in front of me.

"Anyone got _anything?_ Miss Yuan?"

It was kind of easy to tell that Miss Yuan—I'm new, cut me some slack—did know the answer. She shrugged it off however, and Tanner sighed.

"1945," He elaborated for we Neanderthals. "Pearl Harbour?"

Again, we mere high schoolers didn't have the confidence to answer him, and Tanner found himself asking a non-responsive crowd. In fact, some of the students were so entirely uninterested in the class, that they were very obviously chatting across rows of desks.

"Miss Gilbert?"

"Hmm?"

A balls-y move, it seemed, to answer the teacher so nonchalantly, but the pretty brunette girl just smiled brightly—in a way that probably bedazzled even _Tanner_ somewhere.

"Pearl Harbour?" Tanner repeated himself, somewhat amused with her approach to his teaching.

The pretty brunette hesitated, clearly not knowing the answer to this one. Luckily for her, her knight in shining armour, and the boy she had been whispering to before being drawn to the spotlight came to her rescue.

"December 7th." He said quickly, smiling up at the teacher. "1941."

At this, Mr Tanner looked annoyed. Maybe it was because the saviour of Miss Gilbert's honour didn't have quite the smile Miss Gilbert herself possessed, but he didn't look ready to show him the same lenience.

"Thank you," he said through a false smile. "_Miss Gilbert." _

This provoked some snickers, but Mr. Chivalrous decided to go one more. "Anytime," he said casually, with a nod of the head.

Tanner, clearly not ready for his class to see him usurped, took the challenge in the attractive boy's voice instantly.

"Very well," Tanner granted him. "The fall of the Berlin Wall?"

I was studying the boys face clearly now, interested to see if he would rise up to the challenge. Being a teenaged boy, it was to be expected, but he was also going up against a _history _teacher, in an argument about history. He was definitely good looking—with a hairstyle that suited him, and heavy eyebrows that let him pull off the broody act.

"1989." Eyebrows said with a smug smirk. "I'm good with dates, sir."

It was smooth, the way that he was reminding Tanner of the power that he had over him, but still showing him up.

This was almost certainly Mr. Off-Limits that Caroline had warned me about.

"Are you?" Tanner challenged him. "How good?" At this, his unsettling gaze crossed the class—reasserting his 'alpha-male' status in the classroom. "Keep it to the ear." Eyebrows nodded. "Civil Rights Act?"

"1964."

Tanner narrowed his eyes.

"John F Kennedy assassination."

"1963."

Tanner's eyebrows creased. This had suddenly turned from an exhibition of his higher status, into a challenge that he could very well lose. He had two options now. Continue, and wait for Eyebrows to slip up, or bow out—and he didn't particularly strike me as the bowing out kind.

He lived up to my expectations. Squaring his shoulders, making himself look more threatening, he tried again.

"Martin Luther King."

"'68."

"Lincoln."

"1865"

I would give it to him. He wasn't kidding when he said he was good with dates. He clearly had some sort of photographic memory—or, beneath all the charming suave exterior, he was a closet nerd.

Tanner stepped forward, in another attempt to reassert his control.

"Row versus Wade."

"1973."

"Brown versus Borg."

"1954."

"Battle of Gettysburg."

"1863."

Eyebrows was impressing people now. Miss Gilbert was listening with a grin on her face—and even the angry blonde sitting behind him looked mildly impressed.

"The Korean War."

Eyebrows smirked—a subtle smirk that wouldn't have been noticed if I wasn't enjoying this spectacle.

"1950 to 1953."

Tanner was as taken with this fight for dominance as any, so, in spite of the dignified persona that I'm sure he wanted to display, he let out a gleeful explanation, that amused us, even if he'd won.

"Ha! It ended in fifty-TWO."

He turned, proud of himself, to show off his triumph to the spectators. I sighed, and let my head drop back into my hand. Well, it had been entertaining to say the least.

"Actually, sir, it was '53."

And apparently it could continue to be interesting My head rose off my hand again and I grinned.

Tanner tensed, his fists clenched and an unattractive vein in his neck popping. "Look it up!" He suddenly ordered. "Somebody." When no one moved he clenched his teeth. "Quickly!"

The boy sitting beside Eyebrows did so, pulling out his text book and consulting the index. "It was nineteen…fifty _three."_

I was one of the students to let out bark of gleeful laughter as Tanner's face flushed. The applause started quickly, and I joined in, grinning. As Miss Gilbert turned to smile attractively at her saviour, it became clear that Mr. Dark and Handsome was off the market—but if all history lessons turned out to be like this one, then maybe Mystic Falls wouldn't be such a terrible place after all.

I grinned, and looked down at my desk—while everyone else continued to whoop for Eyebrows an applaud.

"Way to go, Salvatore…" I heard a mutter to my left.

My hands froze, mid-clap.

_Salvatore? _

**xXxXx**

**Okay. So there's chapter five for you all. I hope you like the introduction of Caroline, Elena (a bit) and Stefan (even if I called him 'eyebrows') **

**(and don't get me wrong, I **_**adore**_** those eyebrows.) **

**Thanks for the feedback. I really love the idea of you guys paying so much attention to this fic—so keep up the good work! k**

**I'll update soon. **

**G. **


	6. The Indignancies

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV._

Since I didn't know where to find Damon, I called him during lunch break demanding he pick me up after school. He sounded confused, and a little annoyed at my sudden request, but he agreed when I told him that it was important and if he didn't pick me up, I would drive myself back home, to Cameron and Lily and he would have no say in the matter.

At this, he sounded frustrated. And, of course, it wasn't as though I expected him to actually listen to me. He was only humouring me, by agreeing to meet me. If he wanted me to stay in Mystic Falls, I knew I wasn't going anywhere. Damon was certainly not the type of guy who I could just ignore and leave behind.

But I wanted to.

Boy, did I want to.

To bring me to _this _place. A place where his family lives. Where some relative of his is in my _history _class.

And to _not _tell me?

I'm not sure why I felt so betrayed at the idea that Damon had this family he'd never told me about. Even I thought I sounded like a stuck up selfish little girl, desperate not to share her guardian with anyone else.

But it felt like he had lied to me. Telling me I was his only family, and letting me believe him.

It was… it just felt _wrong._

Caroline had left me pretty quickly, but I had hastily discovered Vicki, hanging out with the footballer—Tyler, as Ben had introduced him—and she had invited me to sit with her for the day. She had then properly introduced me to Tyler and Matt, and a few of the other footballers, who all seemed pretty happy to accept me into their posse.

Not that I was the best company.

Vicki and Tyler were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't really notice me, sitting silently and glowering at an ugly looking patch of yellow grass. Her elder brother, on the other hand, seemed to have a better history of empathy, and noticed relatively quickly.

He didn't push it.

"Bad day?" He had asked, sitting next to me, and clasping his hands together.

I shook my head, glaring at the stupid yellow grass.

"The worst." I replied shortly.

He had nodded, understandingly. "I would guess that it was the usual first day problems, but you're intense problem with our turf seems to suggest otherwise."

I had laughed, glad that I didn't have to explain that I was just stressed from the schoolwork.

"Have you ever had this person in your life that you just trust irrevocably?" I had asked him, after a few seconds of silence. I pulled my gaze away from the grass and focused on his sweet blue eyes.

Matt had shaken his head. "Not me." He told me. "I'm more of the 'trusted' in my family, rather than the 'trustee.'"

He seemed to have sensed that I didn't, under any circumstances, want to talk about whatever he thought my issues were, so, in an extremely unlikely heroic move, he began to tell me about his life.

"My mum's always away, you know?" He began to vent. "With her boyfriend—Pete. She doesn't give a toss about Vicki or me. And, I love Vicki and all, but…" He glanced over to the middle of the oval, where she was making out with his best friend. "…Yeah, she's a bit of a pain."

I laughed—glad that I wasn't the only one dealing with the angst—even if mine hailed from completely selfish motives, and Matt's was a tortured martyr sort of angst.

"Families suck." I declared with a frown. I inhaled sharply, deciding to pull myself out of the tortured soul rut, and focus. Matt seemed like a nice guy.

"You're right about that." Matt agreed.

I had laughed at that, because it was funny. It was nice to talk to someone who agreed with me just because he thought I had a point—and not because he hated my guardian, or because he was humouring me.

"What about girls?" I asked him with a grin. "You're a quarterback—I bet you're lucky with the ladies."

That was apparently the wrong road to go down with Matt Donovan.

"You know Elena Gilbert?"

Oh. The pretty brunette who had been flirting non-stop with the _other Salvatore._ That was only a little awkward.

"She and I dated for ever," Matt continued glumly. "Until her parents died four months ago, and she dumped me on my ass."

Ouch.

"I thought, you know, she just needed some space, but then in swoops Mr. Suave over there, and suddenly she's totally ready for another relationship…"

Matt sounded bitter, and I didn't blame him. It seemed the Salvatores were the basis of both our problems. And this time, both of our feelings were entirely selfish and entirely self-motivated.

"Anyway," Matt concluded grandly, clapping his hands together and rubbing them for a moment, before pushing himself to his feet. "Practise starts in a few—so I gotta run. I hope your problems solve themselves."

I, personally, hoped my problem killed himself, but I smiled in thanks at Matt anyway. "You too."

He smiled at me.

"And dude," I called out, before he could walk away. "Do I have to be lame and give you the other ducks in the duck pond speech?"

Matt laughed, and then gave me a little sad look, before turning and running away. I watched him as he physically pulled his best friend away from his sister, before they both headed for the gymnasium.

Vicki waved at me, and I prepped myself for more human conversation that was not necessary. Before Vicki could take one step towards me, I heard a car horn honk, and upon turning to discover the source, noticed Damon, in his car, with a pair of sunglasses masking his face like they always did.

My eyes narrowed.

"What's the fuss about then?" Damon asked when I got in the car.

"Drive." I ordered him. I couldn't help but notice Stefen bloody Salvatore watch the two of us with interest as we pulled away from the school. My eyes narrowed even more.

I remained stoically silent for the rest of the car trip. It wasn't until we had pulled up in front of my hotel room, parked, stormed (Well, I stormed, Damon _strolled)_ into the Grill, and found a table that I decided on the perfect way to confront Damon about my new issue.

"So, when were you going to take me to the big reunion?" I demanded.

Damon got it straight away, only with not quite the right reaction to my fury. Rather than cowering, or begging for my forgiveness like I had thought (alright, hoped) he would, he leant back in his chair, stretched out his legs and smirked.

I glowered at him.

"So you met Stefen today did you?" He put two and two together relatively quickly, I thought, so it was hard to figure out exactly why he was playing so dumb about my anger.

"Yes." I said frankly. "I did meet Stefen. Who is my age, incidentally, and not only did I meet him in my history class, but I didn't actually speak to him on account of the fact that he has no idea who I am."

Damon smirked at me, clearly entertained.

I was silent for a moment, considering all the terrible rude bad insults I could through him and the expletive curses I could christen him with.

He didn't give me the chance to chose any one specific, however, as he sighed and leant forward, folding his hands on the table and hunching his head.

"Well, isn't that only fair. You had no idea who he was until this morning."

"You stupid, pretentious—"

Damon lifted a finger to cover my mouth before I could get out the worst part of my insult. I tried to continue to convey my hate with my eyes.

"Uh, uh, uh." He warned me with a smirk. "I raised you better than that."

I bit down on his hand. He recoiled with a hiss, and looked down suddenly, lifting his hand to cover his eyes for a second. Only a second, and then he looked back at me, not quite so entertained.

"Don't." He ordered me stonily. "Do that again."

I glared at him.

"So what," I said, frowning—and leaning back, folding my arms across my chest. "Is that it? You're not going to introduce me to my brother, or god-brother, or my somehow significant other?"

Damon stared at me emotionlessly for a moment. Then he leaned forward, I beckoned one of the other waitresses. He ordered himself a drink, before turning back to me.

"He's your uncle." He said simply. "My little brother."

I couldn't help but notice that he had cleverly avoided the actual answer to my question. Part of me wanted to throw something at him, but on the other hand, he was talking.

"Your brother." I echoed, suspiciously. "Stefen Salvatore is your brother."

Damon smirked. "Would I lie to you?"

I let out a loud, dry laugh.

The waitress walked over to us at that point, with Damon's drink. He took it with a smile, that almost had the waitress melt in a heap, before turning his attention back to me.

"Okay. So I might have been less than honest…"

Again, I snorted derisively.

"…But I had good reason to. Stefen and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of things. If he knew that I was your guardian, he'd be furious."

I raised a sarcastic brow. "That probably has something to do with me being his _age._"

Damon shrugged. "Whatever it has to do with," he said simply, "I don't particularly want you meeting him. Not just yet."

I sighed. "Then why did you bring me here. To his class. He's going to figure it out eventually? He saw you pick me up just before."

Damon shrugged his shoulders again, taking a quick sip from his drink. "He'll ask—I just won't tell him. And I brought you here because I had to deal with him. And even if you don't think it's official, I was asked years ago to look after you, and that's what I'm going to do."

For a moment, I thought, uneasily, of the many books, memoirs and photo albums and diaries I had searched through to find at least one mention of him—and drawn blank.

I frowned, deflating as I conceded defeat.

"Fine," I sighed. "Well, can I at least have a address—where I can find you if I need it. I freaked out a bit this morning when I realised I didn't know where you were."

Damon looked quizzical. "You never know where I am." He said obviously.

I shrugged. "Keep in mind that you've just uprooted me from my home, and all my friends, and brought me to stay in a hotel where I know no one, and I'm not _allowed _to know others."

Damon smirked, and then nodded. "You have a point," he agreed with me. "Fine. It's a small town. Ask for Zach—at the Salvatore Boarding House. Someone's bound to give you directions."

I frowned. "Zach?"

"My uncle." Damon expanded. "Stefen and I are staying at his place." He shrugged again and took a swig from his drink, before setting it down on the table again.

I sighed again.

"You Salvatores sure know how to screw with peoples lives don't you?" I muttered, dejectedly, resting my head in my palm. I reached forward and grabbed Damon's drink, sipping from it myself before he snatched it out of my grasp. "You with mine. Your little brother with Matt's. Who's your uncle stabbed in the back lately—?"

"Please, oh please, tell me you are not hanging out with that footballer." Damon interrupted me.

I rolled my eyes. "Why? Is he your cousin? Nephew perhaps? Long lost father that you're keeping an eye on?"

Damon looked affronted. "No." He said indignantly straightening his back and looking down at me.

"He's just a twerp."

**xXxXx**

**Chapter 6 completed for you guys! Hope you liked. Just for those of you who are a little confused, Emma is still very much vervain ridden—and has no idea about Damon's vampiric status. And, in abiding with Katherine's request, Damon has never bitten from Emma, so is very much unaware of the vervain. **

**As you can probably tell from Emma's over protectiveness of Damon, his relationship with Caroline is going to cause her some adolescent angst, so just be prepped for that. **

**Also, regarding Matthew Donovan, before any of you get worried, there is no romantic interest between the two of them. Emma is very much off the market—even if she has taken herself off subconsciously—and let it be known that I'm a very, very avid supporter of the Matt/Caroline shipping. **

**Thanks for reviews. They've been great, and I'm loving the feedback. More is always great though, so keep up the great work if you reviewed before, and if you haven't, it's never too late to start. **

**Cheers. G.**


	7. The Quarterback

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV._

"So," I frowned, as I unpacked the suitcase of things that Damon had brought me today. He had been gradually going back home and packing up my things—dropping them off as he went. "What are we doing this afternoon?"

I grinned appreciatively at the rugby jersey that they had given me personally at the end of middle school. Inscribed across the back, in large block letters was my old nickname.

"I don't know what you're doing," Damon said, as I threw the jersey at him. He grabbed it out of the air and folded it speedily, placing it away with a smug smirk, "but it certainly isn't anything with me."

I glared at him.

"Oh sure," I muttered sarcastically. "You uproot me from my home, and then abandon me." I glowered at him as he watched me amusedly. "You're a _monster."_

He grinned at me, baring all his teeth.

"Maybe…" he grinned.

I rolled my eyes.

"I got a job." I told him, deciding to let his vague evening plans slide. "At the Grill. You're looking at their newest waitress."

Damon quirked an eyebrow. "Emma Hamilton. Working girl." He grinned. "Who knew?"

I laughed again, this time whilst folding one of my favourite airs of shorts—white, that I had purchased shopping with Lily, while Damon had been away, and stupid enough to leave me caring for one of his many credit cards.

"I can do work," I informed him.

That seemed to work for Damon and he grinned again, with a shrug as I threw him the folded pair of shorts.

"This way, you won't be spending my money." He concluded grandly, as he held out for the next garment to place away.

I laughed loudly. "Uh no," I corrected him. "I'll just be spending less of it."

Damon nodded sarcastically, with wide eyes. "Of course you will," he muttered.

I grinned.

My application for the job had gone through quickly and I had gotten the job without any complications, just like Ben had said I would. I had met Vicki at the Grill after Damon and I had said our goodbyes, where she had shown me the ropes, and then left, telling me she'd see me at the rally, if I were going to go. (I had no plans to do this, but I didn't tell her this.)

"So, any reasons behind getting this new job?" Damon asked with a quirked brow.

I smirked at him. "Well," I told him with a smirk. "What with you being so terribly absorbed in your social life in this charming small town, I need to expand my horizons somehow."

Damon looked sceptical. "Really? My little Emma wants to be a social butterfly?"

It was a bit of a stretch, granted. If anyone in the world understood my 'lone wolf' thing, it would have been Damon.

I kept myself indignant, however. "I'll have you know that _your _Emma has many different surprises up her sleeves."

I hid my smile at terming myself 'his' and remained calm. Living with Damon had taught me that hiding emotions to a degree was the right thing to do. I wasn't nearly as good as Damon was, but I was learning.

If he noticed my excitement he didn't let on. He just smirked, gave me a once over before chuckling slightly. "Is that so?"

I smiled coolly. "That is very much _so."_

I returned my disinterested gaze back to my now empty suitcase. The last garment that had been inside—a nice, cropped blazer that I wore on occasion—I threw to Damon, where he hung it up quickly, before swinging himself onto my newly made bed. He rested his hands behind his head, and exhaled leisurely before he spoke again.

"So," he said, smiling at me sweetly. "What does my girl plan to do this evening, if she won't share her ulterior work motives?"

I frowned at him.

"Oh no, buddy," I told him with a frown. "This block on information covers all outlets. You're not sharing about your exclusive evening, and I'm not sharing about mine."

Damon narrowed his eyes at me, and stared at me calculatingly for a moment, before nodding to himself.

"Fine." He declared. "I'm going out with a lady-friend of mine."

The pang that stabbed at my gut felt unnatural—like someone had just stuck their fist into my stomach and pulled, while twisting their hand at the same time. I made an uncomfortable face for a moment, before shaking my head and pushing the moment past.

"Yeah?" I said, interested. "What's her name?"

Damon shrugged. "It's irrelevant." He told me. He jumped off my bed and walked over to me, doing that invasion of personal space thing that was so common for him. I stared up at him, far too used to his presence then I would have liked—especially considering his new _lady-friend._

"Now," Damon said, smiling down at him. "What are _you_ doing this evening?"

"Working," I told him smugly, proud to actually have had plans, and not have been bluffing. "Ben got me to job really quickly, so I'm going straight in tonight. Your money will be safer sooner than you think." I grinned—masking the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach.

Dam made an exaggerated look of realisation, widening his eyes, lifting his eyebrows high, inhaling sharply and saying "Ah…" with a wide mouth. "First name basis with the good looking bartender are we?"

Damon had never been a fan of my having male friends. He only put up with Cameron because he was so convinced that Cameron swung for the other team. Cameron didn't, of course, having a long-term career of pursuing the lady-folk back home, but it was a good way to keep Damon off his back.

I had once brought home a good-looking boy who did have some sort of interest in me. He was a high schooler, when I was in middle school and the way Damon saw it, that age difference wasn't going to work for him. I wasn't quite sure back then, why my good-looking senior friend hadn't spoken to me after our one date. But when I brought home my second date, a few months later—this one a few years younger than my first date, but still a few years older than me—and he too had scarpered after momentarily disappearing with Damon, I had figured it out.

Never one to lie, I just continued to smirk smugly.

"How did that happen?" He asked, through a sweet smile that I could tell was slightly forced. It entertained me to say the least.

I shrugged vaguely, with a small smirk. "I told him I have a thing for quarterbacks."

Damon twitched imperceptibly.

This time I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face.

"And this conversation came up, how?" He continued to quiz.

I played off his inquisition with another smirk. "Oh _you know…_" I said, "Introductions were made. Harmless flirtation ensued." I shrugged grinned.

A muscle in Damon's neck jumped.

"Details," he said through a false grin. "Please…"

I grinned. "Well I went down there to check out the scene for people _my _age, and told him I was interested in the job. I got to complaining about you bringing me here and then he told me that he understood because all he wanted to do with his life was get _out _of this town…"

Damon straightened as I told him about Ben. His brows furrowed and he looked momentarily confused.

"You bonded with the bartender, over me?"

I let out a laugh and then played the interested face. "You know what, Day?" I said brightly. "You're right. If I should thank anyone about my new relationship with Ben it should be you. You're the one who brought us together…"

Damon didn't look happy as a grabbed my jacket and my keys, heading for the door.

"Speaking of," I continued once I was at the door. "The System calls. See ya later."

Damon stood stock still as I hugged him, before I flounced out the door, with a wide smile on my face.

Job well done.

**xXxXx**

"You told your guardian _what?"_

I shrugged slightly, while I lifted the two circular black trays and placed them up on the bar. "I didn't _tell _him anything." I told him confidently. Then, with less air to back up my words, I mumbled, "I more so _implied_."

I laughed nervously as Ben stared at me.

"So, yeah, it was a bit of a stretch," I hastily covered my tracks. "But it's not like I ever actually lied. I'm not the one who forced him to jump to conclusions."

Ben stared at me, incredulity written all over his face.

"Yeah, but you're the one who built his _trampoline_ out of your 'implying.'"

That was fair.

Ben frowned at me. He was absently cleaning one of the many Grill glasses with a white washcloth, while he stared at me with a single raised eyebrow.

"How old is your guardian, again?" He asked nervously.

I smiled sweetly at him, hiding my own irritation at not even knowing the answer to that question. I would have put him in his early twenties if I went on face value, but since he had been my guardian since I was six, the early twenty mark meant that he was at least twelve-year-old mark.

"That's irrelevant," I brushed him off.

Ben narrowed his eyes at me.

"On a scale of one to ten," he finally said, after clearing his throat. "How bad will the damage to my face be?"

I thought apprehensively about the Damon's temple that had throbbed twice when I had mentioned Ben.

"Psh…" I lied, "Damon's a softie."

Ben's eyebrows rose. "Damon? Damon _Salvatore?_ That guy gives me the creeps when he walks in the _door."_

He did have that effect on people.

"Oh come on!" I cried desperately. "Please, please, please? Here I am—damsel in distress—asking for the heroic ex-quarterback's assistance and you won't give it to me? Man up!"

Ben stared at me. Then he let out a dry laugh, throwing his head back.

"Man up? Really?"

I scowled at him.

"Come on. Grow a pair!"

Ben laughed harder at this.

I narrowed my eyes. "Please? It's not like I'm even asking you to pretend to be my boyfriend. Just _act interested _whenever he's around."

Ben quirked a brow, nodding his head while he placed the final glass away. "Alright," he agreed begrudgingly, scanning the area and nervously scratching at his nose. He threw the washcloth over his shoulder and smiled charmingly down at me. "_But_ you have to tell me why you're doing this."

I frowned, confused.

He elaborated.

"Why are you going to so much trouble to fool your guardian into believing this thing with you and me."

I knew the real answer. But again, the nagging voice in the back of my head reminded me of the reasons why I didn't know his real age. He was far too old for me, and in any respects, I should have been trying to stay away from this course of action. I liked Damon. And I did _not _like the idea of him with any other lady friend.

If he could have lady friends, then I could have quarterback friends.

Of course, I wasn't going to tell Ben that, and I had a lie lined up.

"He told me I wasn't a social butterfly."

**xXxXx**

**Ahaha. Here endeth chapter 7. I hope you all liked—it was a bit of a filler, but there was some Damon/Emma stuff, as well as some Ben/Emma bonding. Also, a reminder, that Emma and Ben have no romantic feelings for each other at all. **

**Alright, pleeaaaaasseeee review and give me your thoughts. **

**Also, quick thanks to Ruby for letting me know that I had, in fact, spelt 'ANOMALY' incorrectly—so that's been fixed. :P and a BIG thanks to everyone who took the time to give me feedback on my characters and the plot. **

**G. **


	8. The Admirer

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV._

In the end, even though Matt had very politely asked me to come to the pre-game rally (followed closely by the actual game,) to cheer myself up, I declined. Ben was going to the game, which made sense considering his ex-quarterback status, not to mention his now chronic fear of anyone who looked remotely like Damon walking through the door.

I mean, technically, it was an open invite to anyone in the school, and in the town, for that matter—but I knew as soon as it was announced that I wouldn't be going unless I was actually sitting with someone.

But Matt had reassured me via text (we had exchanged phone numbers earlier) that he would not abandon me, and it would be cool to have someone to chat to who was 'just as screwed as he was.'

Which was nice.

Of course, my usually present logic reminded me that while Matt would provide me company, he would then have to go and play the game, while people cheered and screamed for them—at which point I would be left, standing alone in a crowd of people who I didn't know.

I had elected to stay away, after that. Ben told me it was a good idea for me—because since I had no real reason to go, I could easily stay away and get the extra pay for working during a town function. (Even though Ben had probably only told me that in an effort to separate himself from me. The Damon thing had him on edge.)

So, while the rest of the town between the age of sixteen and twenty were out partying and cheering on their school for a game—that we would probably win, because apparently furrowing his eyebrows wasn't Stefen Salvatore's only prominent talent—I was standing with three trays balancing precariously on my arm while I waited for the fill in bartender to load them up with drinks.

I much preferred Ben to this guy.

"Hey Emma," Millie, the other waitress who worked here caught my attention. She had graduated college in D. C. and was down here to look after her sick grandfather, or so she told me when she and I took the shifts that no one else would take. "That guy over there is totally checking you out."

The first thing I thought was how brilliant that was. Damon was already irritated by my closeness with Ben, and it would certainly be entertaining to watch it escalate.

The second thing I thought was how _wrong_ that was.

Of course, Damon had never really been a father figure to me. I had known him all my life, but he hadn't always been there. In fact, he had always not been there. He hadn't been there to take picture of my junior prom, nor had he been there to see my middle school graduation evening.

But that didn't matter. If not in my eyes, then in the eyes of the law and definitely in Damon's eyes he was my guardian. He had known me since I was a baby, and it was unhealthy for me to want him to show the least bit of interest in me.

So I smiled at Millie, and looked over at the guy she was talking about. He was tall and blonde, and very tanned. His eyes were green and sparkled slightly when I caught his eyes. He looked away with a slight smirk on his face and took a light sip from his drink.

I smiled slightly to myself and turned back to the drinks.

"He's a hottie," Mille told me, impressed. "If you don't want him, I call dibs."

I laughed, but nonetheless I left all the trays for Millie and picked up the ordering notes. I smirked at her slightly, before spinning on my heel and heading towards my good-looking admirer.

"Can I help you?" I asked coolly.

He leant back in his chair, appraising me with his gaze. "I'm sure you can," he said with a grin. "The question is, what with?"

I smirked slightly. "With your drink." I told him, "Can I help you _with your drink?"_

Blonde boy chuckled.

"I've already got a drink?" I motioned t the drink in his hand. He smirked slightly, and I rolled my eyes.

"Alright then…" I turned again, frowning slightly at my misinterpretation of his looks. I could've sworn…

"What about a name then?" He called out.

I stopped, catching Millie's excited eye, before turning around again to watch the blonde with a quirked brow.

"Emma," I introduced myself.

He grinned. "Right then Emma, do you think you can get a few minutes off to join me for a drink?"

I glanced around the Grill, which was pretty much empty except for the small group of older customers at the pool table and the sad looking middle-aged man at the bar. They both looked totally satisfied with their service from Millie and the fill in bartender.

I folded the notebook and seated myself opposite him.

"So who am I spending my well earned break with?" I asked, with a slight smirk.

He smiled. "Lachlan Myers, at your service," he nodded his glass to me.

"So, what can I do for you?" I asked him, with a flirty smile.

"Well for starters, Emma," his said charmingly, "you can tell me exactly why you moved here two weeks ago."

His entire demeanour changed at that. He placed his drink down, and folded his arms in front of him. His flirty smile left his face and was replaced by one of total seriousness. I leant back slightly alarmed.

"I… _excuse me?" _

Lachlan pursed his lips. "I'm sorry. I've alarmed you. That was not my intention. I simply need to discuss your sudden change of scenery."

You're _kidding_ me. He was some kind of stalker.

I hadn't ever dealt with the obsessive guys at my old school. Damon had an air about him that made people like that stay away from me. But clearly, Lachlan had never met Damon.

I stared at him.

"Please," he continued. "I can let this all make sense. Meet me after your shift ends, outside the front door."

I stared at him for a few more moments, with wide eyes. He didn't really think I was going to just walk into this rapist's trap did he really?

"Please," he persisted. "I can tell you about your parents."

There was a beeping in my pocket, and even in my state of shock, I reached down to pull out my phone. I glanced down, for barely three seconds, to see what Matt was texting me. I vaguely registered that he should have been playing—but my heart was beating too hard to think about what that meant.

_Tanner's dead. _

When I looked back to Lachlan Myers, he was gone.

**xXxXx**

I had remained in a strange sort of trance while I helped Caroline—she had arrived seconds after Matt's text had—her friend Bonnie find a place to sit down and get some drinks. The Grill flooded with people who had wanted to escape the crime scene, but thought it was too early to go home. In Caroline's case, her sobbing friend was extremely upset by Mr. Tanner's passing and it seemed that the task had fallen to Caroline to console her.

I quickly fetched her a hot chocolate, and put it on the house.

My shift had ended quickly, with so much running through my mind that I hadn't thought too much about the actual job.

Lachlan knew my parents. It was odd, for a guy who didn't initially seem all that older than me, to say that he knew my parents. _I _barely knew my parents. I couldn't remember what they were like—beyond a few happy memories of sweet smiles, loving kisses and a deep throaty laugh that always brightened up my day.

Luckily enough, no one thought twice of my dazed state—attributing my confusion to the sudden loss of Mr. Tanner. And while that confused me, and worried me, Damon had promised that I would be safe from the animals here—and that was good enough for me.

But now it was time. I was standing exactly where Lachlan had told me, my hand half in my bag grasping my pepper spray tightly while I waited for him to show.

He didn't disappoint.

"I knew you would come." He told me with a slight smile.

I briefly considered hitting the guy with the pepper spray just to knock some sense into him. My parents had been murdered thirteen years ago, and this was the first time I had met anyone other than reluctant old neighbours who could tell me anything about them.

"Don't be stupid." I warned him. "Of course I'm here. What are do you know about my parents?" I jumped straight to the point.

Lachlan glanced around. "Not here." He whispered to me. "Do you know anywhere private that we can go?"

I let my gaze rest on the entrance to the motel—just across the street, and the darkened window of my room that I forgot to cover with curtains earlier. Lachlan caught my gaze before I could decide whether or not I should lie, and nodded.

"There?" He asked, relatively urgently. "Can we go there?"

I sighed, weighing up the pros and cons of bringing this guy into my _home._ He knew my parents. Could he tell me what happened to them? Was he even telling the truth?

In the end, even a voice in my head that sounded strangely similar to Cameron's was screaming at me to stay away from this man, I decided that finding out my parents was worth it. And if anything happened to me, Damon would hunt this guy down and bad things would happen.

"How do you know my parents?" I demanded, as I closed the door.

Lachlan sat down at the small desk and chair that sat in the corner of my room. I made my quick way to the bed and sat down on it, making sure I could clearly see the baseball bat that I had sitting neatly against the door. I could get to it easily enough, if I wanted to.

"What do _you_ know about vampires?"

**xXxXx**

**You'll soon learn, my brilliant and attentive readers, that I am a big fan of the cliffhanger device. I think its absolutely brill. So be prepared.**

**Thoughts? Queries? Comments? **

**A big thanks to everyone who's so interested in this fic. Its really what motivates me to keep writing, so keep up the good work. Thanks to the reviewers who've been sharing their specific opinions on the character etc. etc. every little bit helps me out. **

**So, I've brought in two more OCs in this chapter, and while Millie won't be much of a big part, Lachlan certainly will. Keep in mind the vervain in her blood—that's going to be a constant plot device throughout this fic, even though the story will run along Series 1. **

**So please continue to review and give me your thoughts. **

**Cheers. G. **


	9. The Drama

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV._

"So, why are you buying chocolates for your land lady?" Matt asked, hands in his pockets as he followed me down the confectionary isle of the local shopping market.

I examined the labelled chocolates in my hand, before placing them back. Not expensive enough, I concluded looking for a higher price tag.

"She's not my landlady." I told him. "She simply owns the hotel at which I reside."

Matt frowned slightly.

"Yeah, I was going to ask about that… why do you live at a hotel?"

"Because my guardian is an anti-family cheapskate anal-retentive butthead," I answered simply, reaching for one of the golden wrapped chocolates at eye level.

"Oh."

Matt, as far as I knew, was the only one in this small town that I had shared Damon's identity with. He had been shocked, initially, when I told him that Stefen Salvatore was pretty much my uncle—in legal terms, at least. He had thought it a little dodgy for a moment, saying quickly, "Isn't he dating—"

Because I really didn't want to know, I plugged my ears and he decided to not press that issue either.

"Anyway, I am buying Wendy—the hotel owner—chocolates," I told him grandly, "because there was a bit of an incident at my house on Friday night, and I don't want her to think I'm dangerous to have around."

I wasn't.

Dangerous, I mean.

If _anyone_ was dangerous to have around, it was the completely insane Lachlan Myers character, who I had stupidly let into my room. After asking me what I thought about vampires, he had then persisted with his stupid claim until I had reached my baseball bat and swung it at his head.

He had dodged it rather impressively, but decided that it was better to stay and try and convince me that vampires existed, rather than take his immediate leave.

I had tried to hit him again.

"What happened?" Matt asked, when I finally selected the right chocolates and handed them to him. He quickly placed them in the red basket he was carrying around behind me, and hurried after me.

I grimaced. I didn't particularly want to be telling this story. I knew I would never want to answer the ever-predictable questions that would follow. But, Matt was my friend—the only friend I had here, _really_—so it was only fair that I tell him, in case it got around any other way.

"I may have accidentally chased a guy out of my room with a baseball bat?" I suggested, as though it were a question.

Matt let out a low whistle.

Technically, Wendy should have been glad that I was so prepared to look after myself. It would have been a worse sort of bad publicity if she had found a dead girl in one of her rooms—drained of all blood by some psycho who believed in vampires.

In fact, she'd said it didn't matter. That she was glad I was okay.

But I knew the dodgy scared look on her face. She was scared of me, of my baseball bat, and of my psycho vampiric friend.

Ergo, _chocolates._

"What was this guy doing in your room?"

Ah. There it was. The inevitable question that made me cringe. What had I been _thinking_ bringing him into my room like that? I mean, I had _seen_ those horror movies about girls who foolishly invited serial killers into their homes—I wasn't an idiot. So the question remained: Why _did _I invite him in?

"We were chatting," I told Matt vaguely.

He pulled a face ,that told me he did not believe for a second that Lachlan and I had been just talking.

I frowned.

"We weren't doing _that,_" I told him, with an eye roll, "if that's what you're implying."

Matt held his hands up defensively. "Hey. No judgements here. There were no implications, I _swear."_

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yeah, _sure._ No _voiced_ implications."

Matt grinned at me. "This is a no judgement zone." Then he smirked slightly at me. "So if your pal wasn't in your room to…" I glared at him, "…get horizontal, then what was he doing there?"

I frowned. I suppose I would have ad to come up with a plausible lie at any point in the next few days, and now seemed as good a time as any.

"He was selling pizza." I told him stubbornly.

Matt smirked, clearly sceptical of my excuse. "And what did the _pizza guy_ do to anger you so?"

"He requested to stay in my room longer than was necessary."

Matt frowned, discerning that piece of truth from the rest of the lies. It must have been on my face or something.

"Friday was heaps of fun for everyone then, wasn't it?" Matt said with a frown.

I was well aware that Matt had been the one to find Tanner's body in the car park. It was mutilated, the reports said, which worried me—I was still sceptical of the safety in this entire town. He had sent me his text about an hour after he found the body, realising that I hadn't come and wouldn't have known yet.

"Yeah," I agreed solemnly, as we made our way to the cashier. "Practically a party."

**xXxXx**

Lachlan hadn't left town. When I arrived, after shopping, back at my hotel, I saw him, sitting on a bench in the middle of the park, watching me as I entered the hotel.

I faintly considered calling the police, but had decided against it. I didn't need the police department thinking I was an issue—nor did I want them poking around in my life. Like I've said before, Damon isn't my official guardian, and maybe the people of Mystic falls weren't as easy to crack as the officials back home.

But then, about half and hour later, as I had made my way to the Grill for my afternoon shift, he was sitting in the corner, sipping a drink that Vicki had served to him, and watching me over the rim of his glass.

I brushed it off. If it became necessary, I could always tell Damon about him.

Damon had spoken to Wendy, I quickly figured out, when I gave her the chocolates. She accepted them gracefully, with a sweet smile and a promise not to kick me out because of some unwanted attention I had received from a good-looking yet clearly insane blonde guy, but I could tell it wasn't really her speaking. Damon was like that.

He had this uncanny ability to make people do what he asked them to. He always played it off on charm—and that was certainly one plausible explanation, but it seemed a bit of a stretch to me.

But I could tell, because when I smiled at her and told her that Damon would be so glad that she had said that. Her face paled a bit and she frowned, as though even _she _didn't know why Damon's name worried her.

And _that_ worried _me._

I was still cautiously watching Lachlan out of one eye, while attempting to remain focused on my drinks with the other as I continued my shift.

Ben and I had chatted for a while earlier (after I had warned him to also keep an eye on Lachlan Myers) about Tanner—and when that had gotten too depressing, school and life in Mystic Falls and whatever else someone would do in order to stay interested here. I told him about Cameron and how much I missed him—even though Ben questioned me a little on Damon, but I brushed him off. If I wanted my stupid non-logical crush to pass then I would have to stop thinking about how he would react to everything I did. Plus, he had lied to me enough about Stefen, and I wasn't sure how much of a life Damon led here. I didn't really want to go around exposing skeletons that he might have kept from the people of Mystic Falls.

But Ben had left me to work when the bar got busy, around five thirty, and I had busied myself behind the bar, washing the glasses at a quick pace so that Ben could use them. Once Millie arrived, she took over from me and I volunteered to go out and serve drinks.

Which was when I saw Caroline.

The first thing I thought when I caught sight of her, was the idiocy that must have possessed me to think that Caroline wasn't a cheerleader. The revealing red costume suited her, I concluded, as she made her way towards me. I didn't pay mind to her angry stance or narrowed eyes until she was right in front of me.

"What are you doing with my boyfriend?" She demanded.

I frowned. Initially, I thought she was talking about Ben. Or maybe Matt. But I wasn't sure exactly what I had done to warrant such a telling off since I had barely been here a week.

"Uh…" was my eloquent response. I had honestly been here for four days and I was already in the middle of the drama?

"Look, he's mine. I'm not having the _other_ brother stolen from me, too."

Again, my brilliance astounded even me. I stared, dully at Caroline. Ben didn't have a brother—and if he did I wasn't acquainted with him. And Matt had certainly not complained about any brother to me—and if he had a brother I assumed he would have.

I mean, the death of Mr. Tanner—the man who I had been mocking only days before he was murdered—was dramatic enough. But really? Boy drama?

Come on.

"Look," I said, holding up my hands before turning around and picking up the next tray full of glasses. "I'm really not in the mindset to like _any boy_ at this point—especially not your boyfriend—or anyone's for that matter."

Caroline kept her eyes narrowed at me.

"Whatever." She said icily. "Just _stay away_ from Damon. He's _mine._"

You're. _Kidding_. Me.

**xXxXx**

**Yeah… **_**draammmmaaaa. **_**:P**

**I'm glad you guys are so invested in this story—and I'm so glad that you've stuck with me for this long. I hope I'm not getting too Mary Sue for you, and I hope it's not getting too soap opera-y either. **

**Anyway, feedback until this point has been BRILLIANT and I would just love it if you guys could review some more—in fact, it would be AMAZING.**

**Cheers. G. **


	10. The Warning

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV._

"Em. Leave a message. I'm clearly too busy to deal with you at the moment. I'm sure I'll come to your rescue if necessary but to be honest, it might provide a well earned break—"

BEEP.

I hung up my phone, a little violently, beeping out the rest of Damon's annoyingly careless answering machine.

He's going to hell.

He's the scum of the earth.

He's the _worst _guardian ever.

"I want emancipation." I declared dramatically to the empty library. "I want out. I don't need him. He _certainly_ doesn't need me. He's just one _big_ pratt."

They deserved each other.

Honestly, I wasn't even _trying_ to hide my bitterness. Damon. MY Damon was dating Caroline Forbes. Caroline Forbes being the shallow, selfish, bimbo blonde who had both introduced me to my new life and ruined it in the course of two weeks.

He's going to hell.

The answering machine message was specifically for me, since I was the only one who had his phone number. He had more than one phone, I was sure of it, but the sleek expensive blackberry that he purchased when I started high school had become the 'Emma' phone. It was the only number of his I had, and I could only call it if I needed his express help.

In this case, I didn't need his help.

I needed to kick his ass.

Since he wasn't picking up the 'Emma' phone, however, I decided the next best thing to venting to Damon about Damon, was venting to Cameron about Damon.

_He's dating a girl in my damn class. She's MY age. E. _

I had sent my furious text message to Cameron only minutes ago, but already my brilliantly loyal best friend—who had been proven right in all his opinions of my creep of a guardian—had texted back.

_What a slut. _

Cameron always knew how to make me feel better.

Now, granted, it was rather childish of me to be so angry with Damon for dating Caroline. Well, actually, it was true jealousy and I knew it. Cameron probably knew it. But my argument that I was so angry with Damon because Caroline was my age was just pure hypocrisy.

I meant really, though—the nerve of Caroline to walk right up to me and threaten me to stay away from my Damon. Not that she would be facing much resistance. After finding out just who his little lady friend was, I had no urge to go and see him. I would be staying as far from Damon as was possible.

"Are you alright?"

In my own personal bubble of fury, I didn't even notice that someone had pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down. So I jumped, when I heard Stefen Salvatore's voice.

"Wow." I exclaimed, slowing my suddenly beating heart. "You came out of nowhere."

Stefen smiled slightly. "I apologise," he told me quietly.

I liked Stefen, I concluded in my head. He was quieter, and subtler than his arrogant ass of a brother—and I could work with that. Also, he wasn't dating an eleven year old, which would have been the equivalent of the age difference between Damon and Caroline.

The hypocrisy bells continued to ring in my subconscious.

I ignored them.

"Don't worry," I brushed off his apology. "I should have payed attention." I tried not to let my confusion as to why Stefen Salvatore was sitting opposite me show on my face, as I braced my hands on the table. "What can I do for you?"

Stefen smiled sweetly at me. I noticed, in my peripheral vision, that Elena and her friend Bonnie were standing a little way off, whispering to each other while they watched Stefen talk to me.

I attempted to ignore them.

"I was wondering how you know my brother?"

Ahh. Well.

I was very unsure of how to approach that question.

Damon had very clearly told me that he didn't want Stefen getting mixed up in the mess that was Damon and I. And, to be honest, if what Damon had said about Stefen was true, then I wasn't sure I wanted him getting mixed up in it either. Then again, Damon was dating Caroline Forbes, so I pretty much _hated_ him right now.

In the end, my bitterness got the better of me and I leaned into the table.

"Uhm, I'm pretty sure that Damon doesn't want me talking to you." I told him simply.

Stefen didn't really react in the way I thought he would. He chuckled slightly, shook his head and looked down at his folded hands on top of the table.

"Of course he doesn't…" he said, resigned. He looked back up at me, curiously. "You're not going to tell me are you?" He asked.

I sighed. "I've found over the years that it's usually better to go with what Damon asks me to do." I sighed. "And even if I happen to be super pissed at him, right now, I would feel like a bit of a traitor if I chatted to you about his dirty laundry out of spite."

I shrugged, reaching for my books that I had piled up on, and stood. "Sorry I can't help," I apologised, even if I didn't know exactly what I was sorry for, or what I was supposed to be helping with.

Stefen went with it, though.

"No problem." He said, standing as well.

I smiled one last time at him, a little awkwardly, before turning to make my way from the library. Stefen's voice halted me.

"Oh, Emma—it's Emma right?"

I refused to be put down by the way he didn't know my name, and just nodded. "Yeah, it's Emma."

Stefen looked apologetic, and I predicated that he might try to apologise again, so I held up a hand before he could.

"Don't worry about it," I smiled grimly. "What did you want?"

"Just…" he hesitated, "…stay away from Damon, alright? He's a bit…" he faltered here, then inhaled sharply. "Just stay away."

I felt a momentary pang of anger at being told to stay away from Damon, before I remember what Damon had said about his brotherly relationship with Stefen. I blew it off, and nodded with a slight smile.

"You don't have to worry about that," I assured him. "As far as I'm concerned, Damon's currently a self-absorbed pig." I smiled at him, before turning on my heel and walking out of the library, avoiding Elena's eye as I walked past her.

**xXxXx**

_The Salvatore Boarding House, _

"Have you sorted out a plan yet?" Zach Salvatore asked his uncle nervously. It was dangerous, he knew, to be talking about something so secretive in the place that Damon lived, but they honestly didn't have anywhere else to discuss it.

Stefen nodded.

"I have. I know exactly how I'm going to get the vervain into his system, unless we get lucky and we strike gold with the scotch."

They weren't going to get lucky with the scotch. Stefen already knew that much.

But it was probably better for Zach's health and strained mentality to think that sedating Damon wasn't nearly as difficult as it was in reality.

He too was looking nervously around the mansion. His senses were stretched out, waiting for any sign that Damon had returned home early. There was a boundary from which Damon would be able to hear them talking. Stefen waited warily for any sign of movement at that boundary, ready to shut Zach up with a single motion.

"What about… the _other_ thing? Did you figure out who the girl is?"

Stefen nodded, finally deciding it was safe enough for him to talk without Damon being in hearing distance.

"I did."

Zach looked impatient, as Stefen didn't expand further. "Well?" He snapped. "He's controlling her? Why is he controlling her?"

Stefen didn't quite know how to put it. He wasn't even sure he really knew himself.

He knew that Damon knew her. They had some sort of relationship, enough for her to be angry with him and not be worried about the consequences. He had seen that much when she had jumped into his car after he had dropped Caroline off at practice. Elena had her suspicious too—Caroline was one of her close friends, and to the normal eye the relationship between Damon and this girl seemed to be something more than platonic.

But Damon already _had _Caroline. Where was the necessity in having two girls on the inside?

Stefen also knew that Emma Hamilton hadn't responded at all to his compulsion. Granted, it wasn't as strong as Damon's—but it usually had some effect, even if it weren't successful. The came out dazed, but remained true to Damon's compulsion.

If Emma had been compelled to stay with Damon then she would have been angry, or offended even, for him to suggest that she stay away from him. Emma hadn't even flinched. Instead, she had raised a sarcastic brow and acquiesced to his request.

"That's the thing, Zach," Stefen said to his nephew, cryptically. "I don't think he's compelling her."

Zach looked confused, and honestly, Stefen didn't blame him.

The only way that a human could resist a vampire's compulsion was vervain. As far as Stefen knew, there were no outstanding old families by the name of Hamilton, so there was no way a family member was giving it to her to ingest.

But Damon was against vervain. To the point of attempting to eradicate its existence wholly in the Mystic Falls area. If he was aware of someone with vervain in their body, he would kill them.

So it was fair enough to believe that Damon didn't know.

Which would mean that Damon had never drank from Emma Hamilton.

Which would mean that Damon was with Emma Hamilton for a completely new reason, that Stefen had no idea about.

Which meant that Emma Hamilton was certainly more dangerous than she seemed.

**xXxXx**

**So, as I have had some requests to show you guys the other POVs of other character, I thought it would be interesting for you guys to see what Stefen is thinking of Emma and of Damon at this point. Also, I like writing Stefen—because he's amazingly complex and it's interesting to delve into his broody, angsty, devilishly hot character. **

**Thoughts? Emma and Damon: is Emma too complicated for her own good? Is her crush on Damon a little disturbing? Stefen: was he in character, did he react well enough to Emma. Emma: is she too much of a Mary-sue for you guys to deal with? Is she too selfish? Is the vervain thing running too thin?**

**Be not worried, Lachlan will make another appearance soon, as well as more Damon—he's been unfortunately absent for the last while hasn't he? **

**Please review and give me your thoughts. **

**G **


	11. The Invitation

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV._

I sat on the floor of my bedroom, while Matt leant against the wall in the small chair that Lachlan ad been sitting in when he had asked me about the vampires. I was doing some of my biology homework; while Matt played with a football he had snuck in here.

"Is this the bat you used to chase your pervy pizza guy from your room?" He asked, setting the chair down on four legs and reaching for the bat that sat on the end of my bed. I hadn't quite gotten around to putting it back where it went.

"Yeah," I said absently. "That would be it." I frowned down at my paper. "The phalanges is a finger bone right?"

Matt nodded, while swinging the bat in slow motion, so I wrote that down beneath the question.

"I think you got the guy," he told me, as he examined the bat more thoroughly. "There's a bit of blood on the end."

I frowned, dropping my pen and pushing myself to my feet, hastening to see what Matt was talking about.

Sure enough, at the topside of the bat, was a smear of dried blood.

I wrinkled my nose.

"_That's_ gross."

Matt looked amused, so I shrugged.

"I told you I hit the guy, didn't I?" It must have been the inner empathy in me that made me feel a pang of sympathy for Lachlan. "Maybe he learnt his lesson."

He hadn't. As was usual these days, he sat down the road, watching the door of my hotel from the park bench that faced down this street.

It was a little creepy, but it didn't really bother me. Sure he was a psycho who thought he was Edward Cullen, and I was his Bella Swan, but I doubted he would actually do anything about it.

Again, I could always tell Damon—if I worked up the guts to forget about his continuing tryst with Caroline.

I pulled the bat from Matt's hands and placed it back where it belonged, leaning against the door, where I could grab it quickly if Lachlan decided he wanted to break the fifty feet radius he had on me.

"Are you going to the Founder's Day Party, tomorrow at the Lockwood's?" Matt asked me curiously, while I picked up my homework from the floor.

"The what?"

Matt rolled his eyes. "The Founder's Day party. It's this big annual celebration of the day that this town was formed, like hundreds of years ago."

I scrunched up my nose.

"Your town has too many town get togethers," I informed him lightly.

Matt smirked at me. "It's your town too, Emma." He then told me.

Which was annoying, but true.

I scowled.

"Don't you have to get invited to these things?" I asked, finding another way to worm my way out of attending.

"Emma Hamilton, I cordially invite you to join me at the Founders Day party."

My scowled deepened. Of course I should have seen that one coming.

"No way," I told him stubbornly. "You're not one of the founding families. You can't just invite yourself."

Matt grinned. "I may not be a member of the founding families," he said smarmily. "But my best friend is, and Tyler said I was very free to come to his party."

I frowned at Matt. Somehow, the idea of Tyler inviting Matt happily to his families party didn't seem to sound like the truth. "What really happened?" I demanded.

Matt smirked, "I said that the only way I was letting Tyler take my sister was if I was there making sure he wasn't being a total dick to her."

That was fair.

"And these parties are _insufferable. _You have to come."

I scowled at his logic. "Really? I _have _to come to our insufferable party."

Matt grinned and nodded. "Yep. You do."

I frowned at him. I folded up my homework, placing it lightly back in my bag before sighing. "Fine…" I caved. "It'll be a good way to spend Damon's money, anyway." I grinned as I held up my wallet, with one of Damon's credit cards inside.

**xXxXx**

_TO: Me! (Hamilton.E_)_

_FROM: Cameron Rogers (BabeMagnet_);_

_SUBJECT: Re: Sorry!_

_Hey Em, _

_First of all I would like to state loud and clear that I TOLD YOU SO. He's a creep! He's a creep! He's a creep and I called it! I think it's only fair that we say that I was always right in my predictions about _your_ Damon, especially since it was him who proved that I was right. _

_Then again, I think I would rather be incorrect then have to imagine thinking about you seeing Damon hook up with a chick your age. I don't care how hot she is. (What can I say, that's what best friends are for.) _

_Anyway, as for your texts about this little shindig that you are to attend this evening, good luck. I'm with Lily now—did I mention that we kind of bonded over your mutual desertion of us?—and she says that you should wear something that goes with you (although I'm not sure how that works) and suggests something aqua or silver. I'm not sure how colours can go with you, but ce la vie. It's a girl's world, I suppose. _

_Thirdly, you're teacher DIED? That is an emphasis of the freaky, although it is only to be expected since you now live in a place called Mystic Falls. Come on, naming a town that is only asking for trouble. _

_And fourth and finally, if this Lachlan guy comes anywhere near you, hesitate not to let me know and I'll steal my dad's gun from the cabinet. I know where it is, and when he gets drunk he always makes sure I hold onto the key. (Lily says she'll have no problem getting him tipsy, and while THAT is creepy in it's own denomination, I am a big supporter of the ultimate goal.) _

_Seriously, Em—if anything happens just tell me. Or Damon. Or the Witness Protection Program. _

_If you died, quite frankly, I'd be shattered. _

_Now, since you should get this email before your party—I believe that you either have a party to get ready for, or a dress to go shopping for. _

_So I'll cut this email short, and say au revior. _

_Cheers, Cameron. _

_PS. Lily says to remind you: SILVER OR AQUA. _

_PPS. Girls are weird. _

I grinned at the computer screen, and at Cameron's uncanny ability to predict the future, as well as figure out exactly how to lift my spirits. As per usual, Cameron was correct, and Matt was driving by to pick me up for shopping in mere minutes. He had complained initially about how I always made him go shopping, but as soon as he had agreed I had smiled. Because Matt was my _friend_ here. He wasn't replacing anyone, but it seemed he was doing me a lot of good, and I seemed to be doing the same for him.

It was a bit disconcerting that Cameron and Lily had bonded however. Lily, a notorious speed dater in university, and Cameron, a sleazy high schooler wasn't a good combo.

But hey, maybe I was reading it wrong.

The familiar beeping in my pocket let me know that Matt was almost there. _Coming,_ his text read. _The lights aren't on my side today._

I made a note in my head to berate him for texting while driving when he did pick me up.

It made sense, however, that he was close, so I grabbed my jacket—or rather, Damon's—and headed outside.

There was someone waiting for me—only it wasn't a someone I wanted to see.

"Emma, you have to listen to me," Lachlan said urgently.

I pulled a face. "I have to nothing, Lachlan." I told him. "_You _have to stay away from me, before I call the cops."

Lachlan shook his head. "If you were going to call the cops, you would have done it already."

I narrowed my eyes. "Would you prefer that I hit you over the head with my baseball bat again. I still haven't washed off the blood from last time."

Lachlan flinched slightly, but didn't back down.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He told me. "The opposite in fact. You're in a dangerous situation here. We could monitor it before, but now that you're here, you need to learn how to take care of yourself."

I scowled at him.

"I beat _you_ off with a baseball bat. I won't hesitate to do the same to anyone else I think it a problem." I informed him icily.

Why was I still even listening to him?

"You don't _know _who's a problem," Lachlan said hastily. "You need to learn how to identify threats to your safety."

He grasped desperately at my wrist, bending over so his usually tall head was at my eye line. I flung his hand off my arm, scowling at him.

"Identify the _vampires_, you mean?" I said incredulously.

Lachlan nodded, eyes widening as though he thought I were serious. He grasped my shoulders tightly. "_Yes!" _He said excitedly. "That's exactly what I mean! I can _teach _you! I can teach you everythi—"

I never found out what he could teach me, however, as he was suddenly ripped away from me by a strong pair of hands. For a moment, I was confused as to where he had even gone before I regained my senses and watched with a sad pleasure as Matt's fist collided with his face.

"I don't know who you are!" Matt shouted loudly, ignoring the looks we were getting room everyone around the street. "And I don't know what you want. But you better _stay away _from her, do you understand?"

He didn't wait for an answer. Instead he turned back to me, and looked at me closely. I was a little shaken, to be sure, but not a bad as it apparently looked.

"You alright?" He asked.

I nodded hastily, "Yeah, yeah," I swallowed, "Yeah, no, I'm fine." I glanced down at Lachlan on the floor, where he was cradling a now bleeding nose.

"Get in," Matt ushered me into his car, which he had haphazardly pulled up at the side of the road, upon seeing my situation. I did so quickly, hopping into the passenger seat of his car.

"Thanks," I said, looking away from Lachlan.

Matt smiled his sweet smile and shrugged. "No problem." Then he smirked slightly. "I knew he wasn't just a pizza guy."

**xXxXx**

**Before anyone comments on it, I know that there's a lot of drama in Emma's life. I know that it's a bit odd for one girl who happens to have vervain flowing through her blood, to have a (unknown) vampire guardian dating her friend, and her old best friends getting it on back home, and a blonde stalker who knows about vampires and happened to know her parents—who are incidentally dead etc etc etc. **

**But then I figure, there's Elena, who just lost both her parents in a tragic accident, who's in love with a 140 year old vampire, who has a homicidal yet EXTREMELY good looking brother, who were both in love with another vampire named Katherine who happens to have the exact same face as Elena and who both brothers thought was dead but wasn't, and her descendants just happened to be obsessed with vampires and leaves her loving husband so that she can do exactly that etc etc etc. **

**So in all honestly, I think Emma fits in rather well to the Mystic Falls dramatic female character part. If you guys have any issues with it, however, don't hesitate to let me know.**

**In a review. **

**Hint. Hint. **

**G. **


	12. The Deal

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV._

As much as I complained about Mystic Fall's seemingly endless list of social functions (trust me, I had Matt give me a rough overview of the annual events and _oh god…) _I couldn't deny that I enjoyed dressing up.

The house that Matt and I had arrived at was amazing—a large mansion complete with pillars and awning and pretty painting that made my jaw drop, and Matt laugh at my reaction—and the flood of people in front f it were eve more impressive.

"This is barely it." Matt told me chuckling. "Tyler asked me to come early, so that I could help him set up."

I stared at the large group of people at the front door. No one was going inside yet. So I could only assume that Matt was right.

I had made less of a fuss about going since Matt had come to my daring rescue yesterday. He had very kindly escorted me to the mall where I had bought the white summer dress—it had a silver sash, so I hoped that Lily would be satisfied. Of course, he had refused to take me to the mall _until_ I had gone to the sheriff's office and reported Lachlan as a 'disturber of the peace.'

Matt had described the events quickly, as had I, and Sheriff Forbes—_yeah. Forbes—_he been very understanding. She had told me that they would keep their eye out for him, but since Lachlan hadn't actually done anything wrong they couldn't arrest him on anything. They did say that they would be watching the motel, just in case, however, and that was definitely good enough for me.

"It's not _that_ many people." Matt said.

I frowned at what I would have called the large group of people. "I didn't think there were this many people who lived in this town—let alone this only being part of them."

This time, Matt gave me a sarcastic smirk. "Right. You keep on forgetting that you live here too, now."

Ah… that I did.

Much to my dismay, Matt parked a fair way away from the actual house. I made him hold my new strappy silver stilettos while I leant on his shoulder and attempted to navigate my way down the sharp gravel road that led to Tyler's house.

"That's not very ladylike," Matt reminded me.

I scowled at him. "Yeah, well—neither is this."

Matt gasped theatrically as I held up my two fingers in an obscene hand gesture. I rolled my eyes, but got his point. As we got closer to the house, I reached out for the shoes—and placed them delicately on my stinging feet. Matt paused and waited for me, until I was ready, and then held out his arm so that I could take the crook on his elbow.

"Since you're my date."

I scoffed. Matt chuckled.

"Hi Mrs Lockwood," he greeted the woman at the large front doors who greeted us when we knocked a few minutes later.

She smiled sweetly at him, and I couldn't help but feel a little awkward. "Hello, Matthew, dear." She greeted him brightly. "Come in. Who's your friend?"

I was instantly thrust right back to show and tell day in kindergarten, when I brought in a pink fluffy bunny rabbit to show the class—and that question was the only thing I was asked for the entire day.

"This is Emma Hamilton," Matt introduced me. "She's just moved here, and I told her I'd bring her to all the best parties."

I had to admit it. Even if Matt wasn't born to these party scenes, he certainly knew how to talk in them. Mrs Lockwood looked flattered, and smiled brightly at me. "That's very nice of you, Matthew," she said smiling, her teeth practically blinding me they were so white. "Tyler's just out the back helping with the decorations."

Matt smiled at her, before leading me inside. We made our way out the back, where Tyler quickly enlisted the help of his friend with moving one of the tables a little further away from the dance floor.

I helped moving the tables—or rather, I held the tablecloth and the candle ornaments that sat on top of the table, while Matt and Tyler moved the actual table—for a good hour or so, until Mrs Lockwood had them in the right place. This was followed by a debacle that was apparently very important.

"I can't find the pocket watch, Tyler. Are you sure you went by and got it from the Gilbert's house?" she demanded of her son, shrilly.

Tyler rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm sure, Mum," he said indignantly. "And I got a door slammed in my face for my troubles. Elena gave me the box, told me to be careful, and I brought it straight back home and gave it to you."

Mrs Lockwood pursed her lips.

Since Tyler's only company was Matt and I, he warmed up to me considerably.

"Sorry about her," he apologised. "Matt's used to it, but I'm sure my OCD mother comes as quite a shock to an outsider."

It was a bit different. But I wasn't going to comment on it. After all—what did I really know about functioning families?

"It's cool," I told him coolly. "Don't worry about it."

Tyler shrugged. "She's really into the Founders Day stuff, you know? She's gotten people to send in all their family artefacts…" he turned to Matt. "Did you know she got the Gilberts to give her Elena's parent's wedding rings?"

That was a bit cold. I knew I wouldn't give up my parent's wedding rings if my life depended on it.

"Matthew, do you know the Gilbert's phone number?" Mrs Lockwood asked, hurrying back to the patio where we were all standing.

Matt, being the ridiculously self-sacrificing soul he is, quickly gave her the number. She pressed it into her phone with a smile.

"I thought you would know it," she said graciously. "You two were so close until," she pursed her lips. "Well…"

Matt stared down at his feet, unable to keep the hurt look from his face.

Ouch.

Mrs Lockwood didn't notice though, as one of the Gilberts quickly answered the phone.

"Oh god," Tyler said, frowning at his own mother. "I'm sorry man,"

Matt lifted his had, a brave smile on his face and he shrugged. "She was right. I did know the number." And then he began to set the drinks table back up with the tablecloth on ornaments.

Mrs Lockwood quickly got me to help with the drinks, and I diligently began to place the large bowls of punch where they were supposed to go. About three minutes into my task, I received some help from the Sheriff herself, who walked over to me smiling.

"Emma Hamilton, right?" She verified.

I nodded with an awkward smile.

"You came by the station yesterday—have you had any more trouble from your friend?"

Lachlan had been back at the Grill this morning, when I bought myself a morning breakfast instead of eating at the motel buffet, but he had kept his distance. Even from my distance I could tell that his nose was bruised, and his eye was a little blue and swollen. I shrugged when he caught my eyes. That's what he got.

"He's been fine," I told the Sheriff. "I don't think he's as dangerous as everyone seems to think he is."

Because in all honesty, Lachlan didn't see interested in hurting me. He seemed hell bent on protecting me, even though I'm pretty sure that entailed him being the next Van Helsing, or whatever.

I informed the Sheriff of this—leaving out the Van Helsing part, because I didn't have it in me to tell either Matt or Sheriff Forbes that he was convinced vampires existed—and she shrugged.

"Its probably safer for you to remain away from him, for a while," she said. "Even if you think he's protecting you."

And she made sense. So I agreed.

"So where you from, kid?"

I stuck by the Sheriff for the next half hour, before the doors opened and people began to trail in. Like Matt had said, the crowd size out the front had doubled and I found myself actually enjoying myself as I chatted to Sheriff Forbes. These parties weren't as bad as I had thought.

Or so I thought until _they_ made their way through the door.

"This is my boyfriend, Damon."

Oh. _God._

I closed my eyes and inhaled sharply. There was only one girl I had met here with a voice that grating. It seemed Caroline Forbes and her boyfriend had arrived.

"Lovely to meet you." I heard his annoying pretentious voice say smoothly. "I've been looking forward to this party for quite a while."

I bet he had.

I hastily apologised to Sheriff Forbes, and was about to go and find Matt, when the brilliant quarterback appeared right in front of me. "Hey," he said with a smile. "I got you a drink. Nice work with the punch."

I smiled graciously at him, and took the drink. "Thank you. I am a waitress, after all."

Matt laughed. His laugh was happy, and loud—and it made me feel as though I wasn't about to turn around a rip Caroline's hair from her head right in front of her mother.

"You look annoyed." Matt observed lightly, as we strolled through the crowded sitting room.

I laughed. "And how do you know what my face looks like when I'm annoyed?" I asked him curiously.

Matt let out another of his brilliant laughs. "Right. Because you're not _constantly_ wearing an annoyed expression. You're a bundle of laughs, _really."_

Hmm. Point taken.

"Fine," I said, grinning, turning around face Matt and stop him talking. "I'll make you a deal. No more annoyed face tonight, and you can't make any more comments about my mood."

Matt laughed again. "I'll take that," he said energetically. "You won't last the night."

I scowled at him for a moment, before realizing myself and fixing my face into an uncomfortable grimace-smile. Matt let out another bark of enthusiastic laughter.

"It's on!" He shouted, and I couldn't help but laugh along with him.

I noticed Damon standing behind Matt—watching me with wide eyes and an angry frown on his face. I held his eye contact for a moment more, before smirking slightly, and turning all my attention back to Matt.

Like I had told Stefen, ignoring Damon wasn't going to be an issue.

**xXxXx**

**again with the drama! This is less than previously, but I hope you guys are still happy with the way this fic is going. We had less Lachlan, a little more Damon, more Tyler, and a whole lot more Matt. In case you hadn't quite figured it out yet, Matt's pretty much going to become one of Emma's closest friends—because he has a brilliant personality and I really want to explore it some more. (But, before you all send me hate mail, there is NO Emma/Matt in this story.) **

**Thanks for reviews—they've been BRILL, but I selfishly call for more! Feedback is always great and you've helped me out so much to this point! Thanks guys! **

**G. **


	13. The Confrontation

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV._

"Alright…" Matt said, amused. "…That guy over there…"

I frowned. "The bald one?"

Matt nodded.

I gazed closely at the balding man, on the opposite side of the dance floor. He was standing casually, beside a woman who looked to be his age and I could only assume she was his wife. He was dressed in what looked like an expensive, old suit—it was well worn, since he clearly came to these things often.

"He's a bank investor." I declared finally—to be met with Matt's sceptical laugh. "He's well to do, and he's lived here for his entire life. That woman next to him is his wife—they were married thirty years ago, in their twenties, and have almost divorced _twice._"

Matt scoffed, disbelievingly.

"How on earth, could you know that?"

I made a mysterious face, and looked down my nose at Matt. Because he was taller than me, I ended up making a fool out of myself as I tilted my head too far back for it to look natural.

"It's a secret." I told him mystically.

Matt rolled his eyes. "It's total BS." He said after a moment.

I plastered an affronted expression on my features. "How dare you?"

Matt laughed and took a swig from his drink. "What else? What else do you know about balding over there?"

I analysed the man.

I had been dragging Matt around the Lockwood house continuously all night. This was probably the longest we had stayed in one spot, to be honest. Of course, it was all to avoid Damon and his _Caroline. _I could tell when he stepped into the same room as Matt and I because I could feel his burning gaze on the back of my neck. It gave me a sad sort of exhilaration to know that he was at least a little interested in what I was doing.

"He's in his fifties, and he plans to retire within the next four years. He's made enough money for it—the old codger…" Matt snorted into his glass. "He owns an iPod, I saw him listening to it when he walked in."

I hadn't seen him listening to it when he walked in.

Hell, this was the first time I'd laid eyes on the guy.

But Matt certainly didn't need to know that.

"That means he's interested in the now. He wants to be as good with technology as you or I. I bet you five bucks he's got a computer at home."

Matt rolled his eyes. "I'll give you five dollars if you can find one person in here who _doesn't _own a computer."

That sounded fair.

"He's had an affair. At least two. I'd say with his secretary recently, but a friend of his wife's a while back. She knew about the secretary but not about her friend. He's going to tell her on his deathbed."

Matt stared at me. "There's no way you could know that."

It was true. I was making it up. All my knowledge of this guy was guesswork and old plot lines of _the Bold and the Beautiful_.

"Don't be fooled by your biased old thoughts." I warned Matt cryptically. "I'm really a mystical being."

I had every right to be angry with Damon. Not only was he dating a girl my age and in my class, but it was apparent that everyone knew it. Her mother—even if she disapproved—was watching from a distance as Caroline and Damon talked in the room over from ours.

Or she had been… I turned quickly to Matt. "Where did—?"

"What are you doing here, Emma?"

There it was. From behind me.

The stupid butthead had snuck up on me.

I shot an apologetic look at Matt, who noticed instantly that this wasn't a conversation he wanted to witness. "Hey Caroline," he greeted Damon's date. "Can I get you another drink?" After confirming with Damon that that was permissible, Caroline nodded at Matt and followed him towards the drinks table.

I turned around slightly, casually taking a sip from my glass before smiling at Damon.

"What can I do for you, guardian of mine?" I asked, with a clueless grin.

Damon didn't buy it.

"What are you doing here, Emma?" repeated Damon. His teeth were clenched into an unnatural smile, and his head cocked to the left as he waited for my answer.

"I'm just checking out the town," I told him with a grim smile, "Matt invited me—and what kind of a terrible person could have said no?"

Damon, if it was possible, clenched his teeth some more.

"I thought I asked you to stay away from the big events…" He said, once he planted another false smile on his face. "I would call this a big event."

I shrugged carelessly, and turned, observing the party.

"Stefen is at this big event. I told you—"

I made a face of belated, moronic realisation. "Oh, my gawd…" I said slowly. "Did I forget to tell you? Stefen and I had a little chat a couple of days ago. I introduced myself, he introduced himself… it was really sweet."

A vein in Damon's neck throbbed.

"Emma," said Damon stonily, stopping me before I continued to fill him in on my chat with Stefen. "I told you specifically to stay away from Stefen."

I narrowed my eyes at Damon. Matt was chatting animatedly with Caroline. In any case, he didn't notice my emotions go the way he had predicted.

"Stefen came to me." I told him. "And _you _put _me_ here. So if you want to blame anyone for mine and Stefen's little conversation, blame yourself."

Damon frowned.

"Emma. Emma, Emma, _Emma,"_ he sighed, condescendingly. My fists clenched at my sides. "I tell you these things to look after you. Did Stefen tell you to stay away from me?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, so what?"

Damon sighed. "I told you. He doesn't like me hanging out with you."

I scowled at him.

"Newsflash, Day," I told him angrily. "You're not supposed to just be hanging out with me. You're supposed to be taking _care _of me. Not leaving me at some cheap motel, working my ass off in all my free hours and seeing you once a fortnight at some stupid town get together that you don't even want me to be at. You're my _guardian._"

Damon frowned at me, and was silent for a few moments. He kept his mouth closed as he mulled over exactly what I said.

"We have always been like that, Emma." Said Damon after his few seconds had passed. "There are always breaks between my check ups on you. What makes it so different here?"

I stared at him.

"What makes it different, Damon," I hissed angrily. "Is that _you_ put me here. Some completely _new_ environment you've just expected me to adapt to—where I'm not allowed to talk to people, or to go anywhere—and you've just _abandoned_ me here."

Damon scoffed. "Don't be so dramatic."

I narrowed my eyes at him, even if he wasn't looking. His eyes were scanning the crowd, where Caroline and Matt were talking.

"Did you know I was attacked yesterday?"

Damon's head swung back to face mine instantly. His eyes were wide and his expression angry—as though he was ready to bear his teeth at me.

"What?" He demanded.

"Yeah." I said with a shrug. "Friday night as well. I had to chase him out of my hotel room with a baseball bat. And then, yesterday, the only thing that stopped this guy _manhandling_ me was Matt's fist colliding with his face."

Damon was silent.

"Am I still being too dramatic for you?"

Damon's eyes reached their limits and his nostrils flared a little. He shifted in his stance. His fists clenching and unclenching.

"Who attacked you?" He said suddenly, almost snarling.

I shrugged, like I didn't know. For some reason, even though I was spilling everything else to him, I didn't want Damon going after Lachlan just yet. But letting him know the more exotic details wouldn't hurt, would it?

"As earlier stated in the whole 'I don't know anyone' speech—I don't know." I shrugged again. "He just told me that I was unsafe here. He was a total nutter, and you didn't even know."

Damon didn't look so furious now. He looked intrigued which made me even more angry at the guy.

"What did this guy say was unsafe?" He asked, curiously.

I felt like hitting him. As if that was the point of this conversation.

But I humoured him, like I always did.

I threw my hands up into the air, in exasperation, and rolled my eyes. If I wasn't there for him to care about, then I could be there to make him laugh.

"He told me that vampires were real." I told him angrily. "He told me that they would be specifically interested in me, because I was special."

Damon was silent.

"Now, don't you have an underage girlfriend to get back to?"

And before Damon could even reply to that I had turned on my heel and was making my way back to Matt.

"Drink?" Matt offered clearly having seen the end of our conversation.

I took the proffered glass of champagne he was offering me—clearly he had cleverly swiped it from the table that was full of them.

I downed it in one large gulp.

**xXxXx**

**And finally, Damon reappears. **

**So, I know that Emma's a spoilt little girl, but I think that works with her and Damon. I'm going to look closer at the dynamic between her and Damon on the other side of their relationship—so more of the guardian/reliability thing, rather than the screaming at him while he smirks sort of thing that I've showcased thus far. **

**So that should be interesting. Anyway, I'm off to start writing chapter 14. Please review and give me your thoughts. **

**G. **


	14. The Attempted Solution

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV_

I was standing sulkily at the top of the balcony when Damon came up behind me again. He was pocketing something but I didn't really care what. I wondered if he had asked around about Lachlan yet. I should probably give the guy a heads up before Damon rips his head from his shoulders.

Matt had disappeared after a few more rounds of guess the person. His sister had come up to him, crying and telling him that everything that he'd told her would go wrong with Tyler had done so. Matt said he would give her a ride back to the Grill, where she figured she could get some girlfriend support from Millie, or Ben—both of whom I knew hadn't taken the evening off.

I didn't mind—and set my heart on telling Tyler off, but it was clear that he wasn't that interested in listening to me telling him off. He had brushed me off, in fact, so quickly that I didn't really notice it happening until he was storming upstairs.

So I made my slow way back to the balcony, curious to see if I could guess the fortunes of anyone else. I would have to hitch a ride home with someone, since Matt and Vicki had gone so early.

And even though I really knew Damon was still here, as well as Caroline nothing in hell would have made my ask for a ride home with them. So I figured I had better made new acquaintances soon.

"Em?"

His voice was softer this time, and I smiled slightly—even if I wasn't facing him. It was nice when Damon was nice to me. It wasn't soft in a sissy way—his cocky arrogant tone still laced his words. But it _was_ nicer.

He could be really sweet when he wanted to be.

"Yeah, Damon?" I said, ready to accept whatever he was going to say.

Because it was always this way. Between the two of us I mean.

He would mess up, and I would forgive him.

Or I would inevitably mess up and he would forgive me.

"That guy…who attacked you—are you alright?"

I elected not to answer that question. Mostly because I was dramatic, and I was honestly totally fine. I didn't want Damon knowing that, and if I lied to his face, he would be able to tell immediately.

So I ignored the question, and went straight to one of my own.

"Where's _Caroline?"_

Damon didn't say anything for a moment. Instead, he took my response as an indication that I was fine if he stayed, so he took a step towards me and stood beside me.

"She's in the bathroom," he told me. "Fixing her make up or something equally annoying."

I rolled my eyes. Of course she was.

But what made it worse was that he and I had spoken about her for mere seconds—and I could see that he didn't like her. He thought she was annoying, and while some boys might have put up with it—Damon wasn't so self-sacrificing.

"That sounds like Caroline…" I sighed, taking another sip of my drink.

Damon narrowed his eyes at me as I sipped from my glass. It was another champagne that I had swiped—it was weird that taking alcohol was so unnoticed by the general adults population of the party. No one glanced twice at me as I drank from it.

Except for Damon.

"Being your legal guardian," he said slowly. "I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to condone you drinking."

Again, I rolled my eyes.

"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to date girls from my class…" I muttered bitterly, keeping my grasp on the drink tight, in case he tried to take it away. "But, who knows? I've been wrong before…"

Damon grimaced.

"Really? We're going to do the jealousy thing? Now?"

I felt my face turn red as Damon called me on my emotions, but I forced the embarrassment down as I turned to face him with blazing eyes.

"Go to hell, Damon." I told him scathingly.

I made to walk away—stalk away in a way that I had recently perfected—but Damon casually caught my upper arm. He swung me back to face him with a tired expression on his face, before he bent his head a little to look down at my face.

"You don't want that, really…" he told me quietly. "You'd be upset if I went to hell."

I wasn't convinced, but decided to humour him. I gave him a sarcastic nod, and smile. "_Sure,"_ I said, trying the condescending thing for myself. "I'd be _real_ torn up."

Damon sighed.

"Don't be like that, Em." He told me. "You know I don't like it when you're annoyed with me."

I faintly considered telling him that lately, I hadn't been much else.

"Yeah well," I said with a shrug. "I don't like it when you ignore me, hide me and forget about me in general.

Damon frowned.

"Stop being such a drama queen, Emma." He told me. "I mean, I get that you're a teenagers so a part of it's unavoidable, but _try_ just for me."

I glowered at him.

"Right. So I'm a teenager? What's _Caroline?"_

Don't judge me. I was being petty, and I was well aware of it. But Matt wasn't here to keep me from being annoyed, and Caroline bringing Damon here as her _date _had really gotten to me.

Damon inhaled sharply and pulled a face.

"Caroline is… _convenient." _

I stared at him in horror, and he rolled his eyes.

"Not like that—well, _yes,_ like that—but that's not what I meant."

I continued to stare at him in horror. He and Caroline were…_ Oh god…_

"Right," I said quickly, trying to forget the terrible pictures that were assaulting my mind. "Now that _that's _been cleared up…"

For the second time in minutes, I attempted to walk away, and Damon caught me—pulling me back.

"_Listen _to me…" he persisted, bring his eyes down until they were level with mine. "She's the daughter of the Sheriff. She's got all the right contacts that I _need_ and that is what makes her convenient."

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Does _she _know that?"

Because while I was comforted slightly by the idea that Damon had no actual interest in the irritating blonde, I was still totally creeped out by that fact that they had clearly slept together. Plus, even if Damon wasn't interested, Caroline certainly was—and I was already sick of putting up wit her smirks and smug grins whenever I saw them together.

Damon blew off my question. "She doesn't know _anything._" He said with a careless shrug. "In case you hadn't noticed, she's not on the more intelligent side of your age group."

I smiled slightly at that—and he saw it instantly.

"You smiled," he called it. "I'm forgiven, yes?"

I rolled my eyes, but nodded. If Damon had that little interest in Caroline, then it wouldn't last long. And I didn't want to entirely ruin the relationship between Damon and I over the meaningless one between him and Caroline.

Damon smiled slightly, and lifted his head. He pulled me into a gentle hug, "Yeah—there we go. Hug it up…" he rested his chin on my head, craning his neck to do so, and rocking the two of us slightly.

I laughed into his brilliantly smelling jacket.

I couldn't stand being angry at Damon. He was never around, and when he was, if he was angry, it felt like he wasn't. So I usually aspired to stay in his good graces. Recently, however, he had sort of pushed the limits.

So it was nice to hug the trouble away.

"I suppose you've been right," Damon sighed, as he pulled away from me. I let go of him and frowned, curious about where he was going with this now. "I have been ignoring you a bit, haven't I?"

I almost scoffed. _I'll say…_

He tucked a stray piece of my hair, that had fallen into my face, behind my ear and smiled when it stayed there. Then his hands gripped my arms at the elbows and he smiled.

"You always liked our movie nights," he then decided. "What if I came over and we watched movie tonight—after I've dropped Caroline home."

I suffered a moment of inner turmoil, unsure whether I should be ecstatic that Damon was offering to let us have another movie night, or annoyed that Caroline took precedence.

In the end, for the first time that night, I decided to shove away the petty complaints and grinned at him.

"I get to choose the movie?" I asked.

Damon smirked at me and nodded. "Sure. Why don't you pick one up on your way home?" I smiled and nodded, taking the ten dollars he offered me to pay for said movie.

"Will do."

Damon turned to go, clearly to fetch Caroline or to hassle his brother or something, before hesitating.

"Nothing soppy," he reminded me. "Think about what I've been putting up with for the past week and take pity on me."

I smirked at the idea of Caroline forcing Damon to watch _the Notebook_ with her, or something equally girly, but nodded.

Damon looked satisfied and turned to go. I smiled to myself, and slipped the money into my clutch before examining the crowd for do-gooders who might give me a lift home.

Things weren't do bad, I concluded in my head, as I zeroed in on Sheriff Forbes as my potential chauffer.

**xXxXx**

_No one's POV. _

Ten minutes later, as he tasted the putrid vervain cross his tongue and slide, like acid, down his throat, Damon closed his eyes as he fell to the ground.

His first thought was a mess of jumbled ideas and concepts of ways he could shove Stefen's head up his own ass, and possibly kill Elena while doing so. He was really too much hassle than it was worth.

But while Stefen gave his broody speech about why this betrayal of family was necessary, Damon thought briefly of Emma, who would have gotten home by now—he saw her leaving with Caroline's mother in the back of the police car a few minutes after their chat—and probably had already chosen a movie for the two of them to watch.

And as Stefen carried him away, and Damon slipped into a varying state of consciousness, back at her motel, Emma Hamilton was scowling at the empty street as she shut her curtains. For a moment she stared at her watch, before storming over to her bed and picking up the recently borrowed dvd_. _She stared at it bitterly for a moment, before throwing it furiously at the wall, and stalking to her bed.

The sooner sleep came, the better.

**xXxXx**

**I really am just a little unfair to the two of them, aren't I? Finally, they make up, and then external events pull them apart again, make Emma throw a hissy fit, and Damon's dying. (In my defence, that last part can't be credited to me.) **

**So PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE review and tell me what you thought of the nicer side of Damon's relationship with Emma. It terribly difficult to write, and I'm afraid I've messed him up—so words of comfort, or of confirmation would be much obliged. **

**Thanks for review til now guys! **

**G.**

**PS. With the POV changes that you have been requesting, I tried writing from Damon's POV and it was total BS, so I'm thinking: 3****rd**** person when we wanna hear from Damon? Does that work for you? Sorry guys :P **


	15. The Bad Decision

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV_

I scowled down at my recently created radio—that had been the focus of my previous chemistry lesson. I had made a small cross, because that was probably the easiest thing to make—and I didn't mind it. I figured I could put it on my neck or something.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

Matt walked up beside me. He had had more fun in the last class—and was clutching a little wire stick figure in his hand (Tyler had made the girl, and they had entertained themselves for most of our lunch break by pretending that the small wire people were hooking up.)

But Matt wasn't talking about my (ever) sullen mood, or my pretty little cross. He was talking about my finger—that I had accidentally cut when I tried to cut my wire. I had gotten a bandaid quickly enough, but upon a close analysis of my cross, I noticed a little of my blood had dropped onto it and dried.

"Oh gross," I muttered, pushing the cross away from my face and stowing it hastily in my bag.

Matt had laughed airily.

I didn't know why he was in such a good mood. To be honest, Damon wasn't the only thing that had made this day so dismal. Not only had I already injured myself by lunch break, but in the same class we had been told of an assignment we'd get the following lesson that would be worth forty percent of our overall grade. We'd also be paired up with random partners, to do the task.

For all I knew, I was going to be paired up with the stupidest girl in class—or worse, _Caroline—_and my grade would be forfeit.

On the Brightside, maybe _then_ Damon would notice me.

"You just going to sit here and sulk?" Matt asked.

Damon still hadn't apologised. He hadn't texted me, or dropped by to say sorry for missing the small thing he had promised me in apology. He hadn't even sat in the Grille and ignored me as I worked.

The stupid pratt was avoiding me, and I was annoyed.

I had spent many a night awake, since Sunday evening, trying to think why he hadn't showed. Initially I had been furious, because I thought he had decided that hooking up with Caroline was more important, but I found out the following day that she was single again. Which was good news for me, and killed that little excuse.

"You've been sulking all week," Matt observed as he sat down.

We were sitting at one of the many table and seat constructions that were littered all around the school grounds. Ours was close to the football pitch, where Tyler and Matt and the rest of their buddies spent a lot of their time throwing a football—while I sat and watched them play with a few other girls with various connections to Matt and friends.

I was sitting facing the pitch this time, leaning slightly on the table that Matt was now sitting on.

"That I have," I commented dryly.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, you drama queen. Dry up."

I glowered at him, and as was common with Matt and I, he held up his hands defensively as though I had a gun pointed at his face.

"I'm just saying," he hastened to explain, with a grin on his face. "You're a bit of a downer, you know? So he's ignoring you. Ignore him."

I frowned at Matt.

"If he's ignoring me, then how will he notice that I'm ignoring him?" I demanded.

Mat shrugged, with one of his grins.

"That's kind of the point," Matt explained. "Don't let the guy rule your life Em. It's unhealthy."

I frowned again, and looked back at the pitch. Tyler fell over as he attempted to catch the football and tumbled into the ground.

I cracked a smile.

"See?" Matt said. "You look nice when you smile. Try doing it more often."

I rolled my eyes.

"I just…" I tried to explain, "I just want him to get it. I want him to understand that I should be treated differently. I've put up with a lot from him, and he just keeps disappearing and then reappearing and ordering me around and it's getting intolerable."

Matt shrugged. "Well," he said slowly. "Stop putting up with it."

I frowned, and looked up at him, confused.

"What?"

Matt shrugged again. "Stop putting up with everything he dumps on you. Don't take it anymore."

"Well, how will that help?"

If I knew Damon, it wouldn't help. It would piss him off immensely, and then I would be the one who had to apologise, not him. And I defintily didn't want to be the one in the wrong in our little situation.

"And how do you suggest I do that?"

At this point, Tyler called out to Matt, distracting him. "You can talk all you want during school, mate!" Tyler shouted. "We need you for equal teams."

That was about as much as he could get out, as he was then tackled to the ground by another one of the footballers, (Miles, I think.)

Matt shrugged at me, as he pushed himself up from the table. He was smiling more often these days, which was a comfort. If Matt could be happier then I certainly could.

"I don't know," Matt answered my question. "Think about it though. If he can let you down all the time, why can't you do the same?"

I loved his logic, and grinned.

"He's good at cheering people up, isn't he?" One of the girls asked me with a smile. She and her brunette friend were sitting on the other side of the table, and had been until that point, watching the boys as they played.

I nodded, and glanced at matt as he and Tyler tackled Miles to the ground with a triumphant roar, and laughed.

"That he is…" I mused.

"I'm Daphne," the blonde girl introduced herself. "And this is Jane." She introduced her friend. "I'm trying to hook her up with Riley." She nodded at Miles's teammate.

I spun around on the bench, to tucked my legs under the table, and grinned at the other two girls who were sitting there.

"Good luck with that." I told the two of them. They grinned.

"So, are you going to follow your wise friend's advice?"

I wasn't sure how often Matt was called wise, so I made a mental note to tell him about it later. But for the moment, I smiled and nodded at Jane, who had asked the question.

"I will definitely do that." I smirked. "Damon deserves it. But now I have to figure out _how."_

After this, we had a short talk about Damon Salvatore being my guardian—apparently Caroline had talked about him enough. He was 'babe-ing' and totally had the 'bad-boy' thing going for him. I had laughed and agreed, even though it annoyed me a little that so many girls were so interested in him.

"So come on. What should I do to annoy him?" I asked them, leaning forward with wide interested eyes.

Daphne was quiet for a moment.

"We should probably figure out exactly what he doesn't want you to do, first," she concluded after her moment. Jane nodded her head vigorously, a pretty smile gracing her features.

"Yeah," Jane leant forward, "What are his _major _rules?"

Well that was easy.

I wasn't allowed to talk to Stefen Salvatore that much was clear. Whatever family drama was going on there was obviously too complicated for me to get in the middle of, but that sounded like a good idea. Stefen was obviously convinced that Damon was this _terrible_ guy, and Damon didn't have a high level of respect for his little brother either.

I wasn't supposed to leave Mystic Falls. Damon clearly wanted me here—to keep an eye on me. He had been annoyed when I wanted to go home, and immovable when I asked.

But I wasn't just going to up and leave the town. I didn't have a home back there anymore. Damon had probably sold the apartment by now, anyway.

It was almost a coincidence as I lifted my head to frown. I couldn't think of anything. But as I lifted my head, and looked ot the side, I noticed the familiar white car that had been parked near me whenever I went. Lachlan was getting subtler about the way he was trailing me. He didn't sit out in the open any more. Not since Matt had hit him.

But there he was.

Lachlan Myers, sitting in the front seat of his car as he watched me from across the oval.

A grin broke out on my face.

Damon had been very adamant last Sunday that who ever it happened to be, he didn't not like my stalker. Damon didn't want me going near him. Damon didn't want me talking to him.

And when I had told Damon that Lachlan thought he knew about my family, I saw on his face that Damon didn't want me looking into this.

I grinned.

"You guys are genius," I told Jane and Daphne, as I stood up.

I swung my bag over my shoulder and grinned at the white car. Lachlan seemed to have seen me, and turned the engine on.

"Matt!" I called out, as I ran across the field towards the car. "Matt, I figured it out."

Matt paused in his game and jogged over to me. "Figured what out?" he asked.

I grinned. "I figured out exactly what I'm going to do, to get back at Damon."

Matt looked impressed. I navigated my way around him, so that he wasn't standing between Lachlan and I, before I said any more. As soon as Matt heard what the plan was, I guaranteed he wouldn't have been happy about it.

Matt seemed to notice my subtle lack of explanation.

"What?" He asked, suddenly more serious and suspicious. "Emma, what are you doing?"

He noticed my bag, swung on my shoulder, and Daphne and Jane giggling excitedly from the table. My gaze instinctively swung to Lachlan's white car, to make sure that Matt hadn't seen it yet.

Of course, my looking at it only meant that Matt followed my gaze and looked as well.

"Oh no." he said suddenly, recognised Lachlan in the front seat. "No, Emma. I happen to agree with Damon on this one."

He reached for me, but I dodged his arm with a wide grin.

"Come on," I said with a grin. "It'll piss him off and you _know _it."

Matt was still shaking his head.

"Yeah, and it might get you _killed._ Leave this one alone, Em."

But I had already made up my mind. With one last devious glance at Matt, I spun on my heel and sprinted towards the car. Matt ran his fingers through his hair for a moment, in confusion, before he made a decision and sprinted after me.

I squawked at the concept of being followed and attempted to run faster.

It was really only my head start that ensured Matt didn't catch me. Lachlan had seen my tail, and reversed from his park, and was waiting door opened for me to get in. I dove in the car, ignoring Matt, and the Cameron voice, and the Damon voice that were all screaming at me, telling me what an idiot I was, and grinned at Lachlan.

"Go!" I screamed, and Lachlan accelerated—closing the door as we sped off, leaving Matt standing hopelessly at the boundary of the school.

I let out an exhilarated laugh, and looked over at Lachlan, who was smiling to himself as he drove.

I heard the locks on the doors click and my grin slipped of my face.

What _the hell_ did I just do?

**xXxXx**

**Well, I never so much as hinted that Emma was an intelligent girl, did I? In fact, she's a bit of a moron, as is evident in most of her actions. **

**Please, PLEASE review and tell me that you thought. Its so easy and it takes barely any time, and yet it REALLY makes me smile when I get that little review alert in my inbox. **

**So go ahead! Make my day! **

**:P G. **


	16. The Kidnapping

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV_

This was bad.

This was very, very bad.

"Uh, alright, thanks for the ride…" I stuttered. "You can drop me off here, if you like?"

I watched as my motel room flew harmlessly past my window, as we continued down the main road at a steady pace.

Lachlan smirked.

This was very, very, very _bad._

On the bright side, there were over fifty students at the high school who had seen my get into his car—so if my body showed up in a weeks time raped and mutilated and drained of blood by a believer of vampires, then at least they'd have a reason to arrest Lachlan.

On the other hand, I'd be raped and mutilated and drained of blood…

This was Damon's fault.

If Damon had heard me use that logic, I know he would have been affronted, but technically, if you looked at this scenario the right way, it _was _his fault.

I had only gotten in the car because I had been trying to get back at Damon. I had only even considered getting in the car because I was angry at Damon. I was angry at Damon because Damon had deserted me yet again.

So by my logic, this all went back to me trying to get back at Damon.

Therefore, Damon's fault.

"So, uh…" I attempted to start a casual conversation. "…where're we going?"

Lachlan chuckled slightly. "Not too far." And he was silent again.

Apparently it was rather difficult to strike up a casual conversation with the guy that you hit over the head a fortnight ago, and took a punch from your friend just last weekend.

The bruises on his face were still there, on that note, just less prominent.

It would be easier for Matt to describe him to the sketching artist.

I tried to subtly pull my phone form my jeans pocket. _S.O.S,_ I would text to Matt. _I'm clearly a mentally unstable moron. Rescue me! CALL THE COPPAS!_

"Please put the phone away, Emma." Lachlan sighed tiredly. "I don't want to have to take it from you."

I shoved the phone back into my pocket, leaving Matt S.O.S text-less, trying to desperately remember if the phone company brochure that I read when I bought my phone had said anything about GPS tracking.

I examined the window clearly, noting that the windows were dirty and covered with all sorts of dead bugs, and we were driving relatively slowly. I had seen all the cop shows. I knew vaguely how to roll out of a moving car. All I had to do was pull up the lock on the side of the door, open the door and army roll out.

It seemed to me to be similar to this exercise we did in drama class back home. We had to learn how to fall over without actually hurting ourselves—so when you fell you landed on the plush bits. (Namely, the thighs and bum.)

I'm sure it was the same principle…

In three seconds, I told myself, I was going to army roll from the car.

3…

2…

"I'm sorry to have to do this to you." Lachlan said suddenly. So suddenly in fact, that I jumped and let out an embarrassing squeak. He peered closely at me. "Damn, you're really freaking out, aren't you?"

I didn't know exactly what gave it away. It could have been the terrified squawk, the sweaty palms, the pale face or the petrified wide eyes.

I scowled at Lachlan.

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you, you know…" He told me with a shrug, as though I was about to listen to him. "I'm actually trying to make sure you stay safe."

I was the one to roll my eyes this time.

"Yeah, _right_…" I said sarcastically. "You're protecting me. From the vampires."

Lachlan glanced at me sharply, before establishing I was being sarcastic. The fact that he even had to check made me want to reconsider my plan of jumping out of the moving car. But that seemed to be out of the question now, since we had left the main street and were driving considerably quicker.

I grimaced.

"Oh come on," Lachlan sighed. "Am I that bad?" he asked when he caught site of my expression. I made appoint not to change my facial features at all, and instead keep them wound up in a grimace.

"Of course not," I said sarcastically. "You're a totally harmless psycho-vampire-stalker."

Lachlan screwed up his face. "I'm not a vampire." He told me.

I was hopeful for a moment. Maybe some of his sanity had stayed with him, and he was finally beginning to see the light?

"I hunt vampires."

I deflated.

Clearly not.

Lachlan chuckled. "Seriously—what have I done that makes you think I'm going to hurt you?"

Then I really thought about it.

Lachlan hadn't attacked me once—the closest he came to actual physical contact was when he held my shoulders last Saturday. I had been the one to attack him. He had just told me that I should look out for vampires and that was it.

Not that I trusted the guy.

Come on—I had spoken to him once and he followed that contact with a week of continuous stalking.

Lachlan chuckled when I didn't reply. "See?" He said, taking my silence as indication that I really had no licence to hold a grudge. "I'm not that bad."

I frowned.

"Oh yes you are that bad." I said, not wanting him to think that he was justified in this kidnapping. "You locked the doors to your car, and won't pull over and let me out."

Lachlan looked at me funny.

"You got in the car." He reasoned. "Actually, you practically dove in."

I frowned. There was a point there.

"Yeah, but then you _locked _the doors."

Lachlan just smirked at me.

I stared silently out the window for a bit more—noticing the number of houses decline, while the size of paddocks increased. It was becoming clear to me that I really should have watched more episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer in my youth. I would have, too, if Damon hadn't had such a grudge against the vampire genre.

See? _Everything's_ Damon's fault.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I glanced at it, wondering if Lachlan actually would steal my phone if I pulled it out of my pocket. If he claimed to be so harmless…

"Go ahead," Lachlan sighed.

I frowned.

He shrugged.

"Just…_don't _call the police or anything. I'm really not going to hurt you."

I narrowed my eyes at him. This must have been some sort of attempt at making me build up false trust or something along those lines. I had seen all the documentaries on serial killers. That was _always _their first move.

But, what was I going to do about it?

I pulled my phone from my pocket and consulted it quickly. As I had suspected it was Matt.

_Are you friggin crazy? You're all right, right? You better text me back in the next five minutes otherwise I'm calling Sheriff Forbes and giving her the number plate of that creep's car. And I'm not bluffing._

He then listed the number plate, just in case I thought he was bluffing.

After I showed Lachlan the message, he permitted me to text back. He tensed slightly, when I told him that my texting back was the only way to ensure that Matt didn't call the cops though.

So he did have some sort of deep rooted fear of authority figures.

Who says psychology isn't helpful.

"Tell him you'll be back at the Grill, safe and sound, at three o'clock." Lachlan told me.

I glanced at the clock. It was just past one.

That was plenty of time to rape me.

I texted this to Matt anyway, adding on that if I wasn't Matt should call the cops. I didn't tell Lachlan that bit though, and quickly deleted the message from my sent item as soon as it had sent.

I stowed the phone back in my pocket.

"Why did you chose me anyway?" I asked curiously, glancing at Lachlan.

Lachlan looked confused.

"Of everyone in this town," I elaborated. "Why am _I_ the one who needs to be protected from vampires."

Lachlan laughed.

"I didn't _pick_ you, Emma. I've pretty much been monitoring you your entire life." I stared at him incredulously. "Well, my family has anyway. My dad tried to become your legal guardian, but your _Damon_ beat him to it. So we've been making sure you were safe."

I stared at him, suddenly feeling entirely too creeped out for my brain to function properly.

"But…" I stammered. "Wh…_WHAT?"_

Lachlan flinched slightly at my raised voice and held up a defensive hand. "Jeez," he muttered, "calm down."

CALM DOWN?

CALM FRIGGIN DOWN?

He must have caught my expression and he stopped me before I could truly scream my ass off at him—and show him what I was really like when I yelled.

"Look, it was for your own protection, alright?" He hastened to explain. "We could monitor you easily enough at your old home, but then you moved here. Not only was it impossible for us to move out on such short notice, but over the past hundred years this has literally become one of the most popular vampire nests in America."

Oh, god… here we go.

He pulled up to a house so suddenly that I initially though he had just stopped in the middle of the road. When I registered that we had stopped, I noticed we were at a small shack—with browned windows and a door with holes in it.

Damon was going to kill me.

**xXxXx**

**Buh—buh—buuuhhhmmmm!**

**Review please!**

**G **

**PS. Plus, to address what I'm sure could be hate mail for leaving the update this late, my holidays are literally consistent of 'new-town-every-three-days' so along with the tourist stuff, and the family reunions and such, I've been finding it hard to find inspiration...**

**Reviews will help. :P **


	17. The Explanation

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV_

"What the hell is this place?" I demanded as I walked into the small shack.

In contrary to its exterior appearance, inside, the shack was furnished with modern furniture that pressed against comepltly white walls. There was a large flat screen in one corner, sitting opposite a light green suede couch and a large mahogany table. Next to the table was an open area that seemed to be Lachlan's kitchen.

It was a small place that was for sure, with only two other rooms stemming from the large kitchen/living room. To the left was what I'm sure was Lachlan's bedroom, and to the right was a darkened out room that I couldn't figure out.

"Oh you're so going to rape me, aren't you?" I groaned, with a frown.

The carefree thing was totally faked. Inside I was freaking out. Maybe I should have gotten Matt to call the Police anyway. And Damon, at the very least, if he wasn't still AWOL.

"No I'm not going to rape you." Lachlan sighed, as he dumped my bag on his table. "Did you want something to eat?"

He strolled casually over to his fridge, pulling it open and staring at it for a moment, as though willing a snack to jump out at him.

My eyes narrowed.

"You're going to poison me."

Lachlan rolled his eyes, pulled a Coke from the fridge before closing it and staring at me tiredly. "I'm not going to do that either," he sighed.

I glared at him.

When I showed no signs of trusting him, Lachlan rolled his eyes again and groaned loudly. "Really?" he grimaced at me. "We're not past this."

I remained stony. "You kidnapped me." I reminded him.

"You _got in my car._" He then reminded_ me._

And that was technically true. So I contented myself simply glaring at him again.

"Look," he said seriously, leaning forward and holding himself up on his table. "Number one, I have _told you_ that I'm not interested in hurting you."

Pah. Because he was going to save me from the vampires wasn't a very plausible reason why he was so interested in doing _that._

"And number two, your friend has my number plate, and your explicit instructions to call the police if you're not at the Grill at precisely three o'clock."

I laughed nervously. So maybe I wasn't as subtle as I thought I was.

Lachlan ignored my pathetic attempt at feigning surprise, and continued to talk at me. "How am I going to kill you and get away with it, huh?"

I scowled at him.

"I don't know!" I told him indignantly. "You're the damn serial killer!"

I was one hundred percent sure that he had a back a plan of some sort.

Maybe he had a second man ready to kill Matt.

I told him this triumphantly, having guessed his end game, but Lachlan just rolled his eyes again. He then hastily checked his watch and swore.

"Come on," he told me, walking around the table and pulling me none too gently towards the darkened room.

Here it comes, I thought, wishing that maybe, _just maybe_, Matt was telepathic or something.

_I'm about to be raped. Save me! _

It didn't look like it was going to work. Lachlan flicked on the light to the darkened room and I actually flinched, I didn't look, initially, before Lachlan scoffed. "Oh don't be such a girl," he told me.

I kept my eyes closed. "It's not some sort of serial killer death machine of death?" I questioned.

This time, I could _hear_ Lachlan as he rolled his eyes.

"No it's—" he sounded indignantly. "Just look!"

I did as he asked, deciding if I had already made the idiotic decision that had brought me here. I might as well be paying the consequences. Torturous machines, or not—it had been my stupid decision to jump into his car.

Actually, no. It was Damon's fault. And he would certainly hear and earful when he too died and met me in heaven.

Or, as was more likely, he would be going to Hell, in which case I would personally request—from my good friend, Jesus—to be his guide to the Underworld, and watch him happily while he be came Satan's bitch.

It was this grim, yet uplifting thought that had me smiling as I opened my eyes.

Upon examination of the room, however, it appeared that Lachlan wasn't as deceiving as I had thought. There were no eighteenth century devices for torture me, nor was there anything that led me to believe he would rape me. The room, for lack of a good description, was simply _old._

Unlike the rest of the unlikely modern shack, this room more closely suited the exterior of the house. It wasn't as beat up at the house looked outside—in fact, it was a grand sort of room—with rich, reddish wooden walls, with bookshelves that reached the roof lining two of the three available walls. The other had a wide, glass window in it, looking out to a beautiful view of the countryside. The room had a specific smell to it, that I vaguely recognised—and upon closer examination I saw that the wooden walls had been glazes with something.

In the middle of the room was a large table—probably made from the same wood as the walls. On the table were mounds and mounds of books that had been recently looked through—and photos. Lots and lots of photos—of me and of all my acquaintances.

There were more photos, on the bookshelves as well—and it was one specific photo that jumped out at me, and made me inhale sharply.

The small picture was certainly from a while ago. My father, who stood to the far left of the photo was recognisable even with the terrible eighties haircut. Under his arm with a similar period look, was my mother. She had always been shorter than him, and I had always been glad that I had inherited my father's tall gene, but I knew just from looking at the photo that she and I shared the same smile. I was in her arms—there was no mistaking the baby suit that I was dressed in, nor the blanket that was back at my hotel room—and, looking considerably newer, grasped in my infant form's tiny hand.

It wasn't just my family in the photo. And unfamiliar Man was standing on the other side of my mother, smiling broadly into the camera. He had his hand resting on my father's shoulder, stretching around behind my mother. His other hand rested on the shoulder in front of him—the small blonde boy who had to be his son, and was standing in front of him with a cute lopsided grin on his face.

I knew that grin.

It was undoubtedly Lachlan.

"I told you I knew your parents." He told me, when he saw my gaze resting incredulously on the photo. He strolled over to it and picked it up form the shelf, brining it back to me so that I could get a closed look. "Our dad's were best friends," he expanded. "—They were the co-Leaders of the Fourth Initiative, back before your dad was murdered. My dad runs it now, and we've been keeping tabs on you for your entire life."

I stared at the photo. Lachlan couldn't have been more that four in this photo—and I couldn't have been more that a year old. 

"Why have you been keeping tabs on me?" I asked quietly. I wasn't concerned at all by Lachlan and his danger to me. I just wanted answers.

Lachlan sighed.

"Because you're _important,_ Emma. You'd probably be my adopted sister if you hadn't been adopted by your Damon, before my father had the chance—like I said in the car." He said, totally seriously. "We've been _keeping you safe."_

I wasn't sure what was more disturbing. The fact that they had been keeping tabs on me my entire life, the idea that Lachlan clearly thought these tabs were protecting me (probably from the vampires) or the idea that his entire family was seemingly in on it. The photo was making their story legitimate, though.

I frowned, slightly.

"Wait, what did you say my Dad ran?" I asked, as his words caught up with me. _Co-leaders of the Fourth Initiative…_ My dad was a Science teacher. Both of my parents were—they had met at a moderation day back in 1984.

I told Lachlan this angrily, but he brushed it off. "They both worked for the Fourth Initiative. Your mother was very good with the hands on science," he explained to me, "while your father was the head. Your grandfather, Roger Hamilton, founded the Fourth Initiative in 1969 when his wife Bela was killed by a vampire. He worked for the Government, and got funding for the project—it was passed to your father when Roger was killed, and to my father when your parents both died."

I stared at him.

Great, now, not only was he still insisting that vampires _existed,_ but he was trying to convince me that my entire family had been a bunch of whack-job believers as well.

I scowled at him.

Lachlan noticed my anger and rolled his eyes. "God," he groaned. "Calm down. Let me _explain."_

I kept my eyes narrowed at him, and folded my arms across my chest, but I stayed silent. He knew my parents—even if what he was saying was clearly insane, maybe if he got it all out I could get to the important questions.

"See, I know you're not going to believe me about the vampires for a long time…" Lachlan started.

I snorted, interrupting him.

"Pfft," I said loudly. "Try never."

Lachlan was silent, and glared at me for a moment.

I sighed and motioned for him to go on.

"So, while you may not believe me about the vampires, it's still up to me to watch out for you. My Dad couldn't come down—he's busy at the Fourth—and he left the job to me. Alright?"

I sighed, but nodded.

"So, the thing is, Emma, I'm going to be around for along while." I frowned at him and he shrugged, continuing. "You don't have to like it—you don't even have to like me. But I'm staying whether you like it or not, because you _need protection._"

I scowled at his archaic views of women and protection.

"Excuse me," I said indignantly, "But this is an equal opportunity country. I have the same rights as you and I refuse to be talked to like some little child that can't look after herself."

Lachlan stared at me.

"Emma." He said incredulously. "Fifteen minutes ago, you thought I was a stalker-rapist, and you then voluntarily jumped in my car."

…

When I didn't come up with an answer to this, Lachlan smirked. "So I'd say, _yeah_, you need the protection."

I spluttered.

"I won't bother you too much," Lachlan continued. "Just don't go reporting me to the Police or anything, because that would be _really inconvenient._"

I rolled my eyes.

"Is that it?" I demanded.

Lachlan sighed. "One more thing. I need to do some tests."

I stared at him—wide eyed. "What?"

"Some tests," Lachlan repeated. "I need to do some regular, run of the mill tests on your blood. We found some paperwork that your father had hidden away in storage concerning a medical procedure done to you while you were still in the womb."

Okay, _ew. _

Lachlan didn't noticed my scrunched up, disturbed face at the idea of being in my mother womb. He just continued, lapsing into a scientific mode.

"I'll just take a sample of your blood, and then I'll take you home." He glanced at his watch. "We've got about twenty minutes before your boyfriend calls the cops."

I considered telling him, like I told _everyone,_ that Matt wasn't my boyfriend—but became little distracted with the mega-needle that he pulled from a box that had been sitting on the shelf. He pulled out some gloves, and snapped the on his hands, before turning to me with a creepy serial killer smirk.

I decided resistance was futile, and I'd never really had an issue with needles. If he was drugging me, Matt had the number plate.

Lachlan still noticed my nervousness as he approached me with the needle.

"Emma," he said seriously, quietly. "You need to calm down. I'm not going to hurt you—I _promise._" I nodded, mutely. "I'm trying to help you."

And in his weird way—I thought, as he pressed the needle into my arm—he kind of was.

**xXxXx**

**Again, Emma is certainly not the most rational soul. In fact she's very much a moron—and very unaware of her own mortality—which is why she's so prepared at have a practically stranger take her blood in his house. **

**But whatever—it's a character flaw that I'll be working on. **

**Thanks for reading and PLEASE REVIEW! **

**Cheers, G. **


	18. The Message

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV_

So, Matt had called the cops.

Lachlan wasn't happy about it, and to a degree, neither was I, but I understood what Matt had been going through. From his perspective, he had stopped this guy killing me last weekend, and to watch me jump into his car just to annoy Damon must have worried him.

So yeah, arriving at the Grill at three o'clock—just like Lachlan had promised—and we were greeted not only by a furious Matt, but two squad cars, Sheriff Forbes and an oldish looking detective who called himself Riley.

It had pretty much been up to me to explain everything.

"I got in his car, voluntarily." I told Sheriff Forbes, stopping them as they attempted to arrest Lachlan.

Lachlan, who looked very alarmed now that his actions had actual consequences, nodded his head vigorously and swallowed.

"It was my decision to go with him, and I didn't ask Matt to call you guys."

I felt bad, to be honest, pinning the blame on Matt—when I should have been incriminating Damon so that _he _could be the one arrested. But it was the truth—I had not given Matt any cause for alarm, and he really had no reason to call the cops.

"No cause for _alarm_?" Matt had echoed, incredulously. "You're _kidding_ me! This guy attacked you last Saturday! I had to physically remove him from you! We went to the Police _then,_ why wouldn't I go now?"

I grimaced, looking at Matt's annoyed face.

"I got into his car, this time." I told Matt. "I chose to do this."

Matt rolled his eyes. "You weren't thinking straight! You were _obsessed_ with finding a way to annoy Damon!"

Needless to say, Matt had not been happy with me when Lachlan returned me to the Grill at 2:59. I had strolled in casually, after waving goodbye to Lachlan because for some strange reason I was finding it hard not to trust him, and met him at his table. His face was masked with an unattractive scowl even though I'd seen the relief on his face as soon as I'd stepped inside. I wasn't going to call him on it, however, as the pure fury that he was displaying now was enough to keep me quiet.

Then Lachlan had called out my name and I had exited the Grill to see the two police cars driving up. I had turned my accusatory gaze to Matt.

He shrugged, with a smug smirk in Lachlan's direction.

"Guess my watch is a little fast." He said calmly.

It wasn't. I could see it clearly—and as a matter of fact it was about four minutes slow.

Sheriff Forbes frowned at me.

"What is going on here you two?" She said, her Sheriff voice resonating in the air and making me frown even further. She had the authority in this situation, it was rather clear.

I sighed.

"I was trying to think of ways to annoy my guardian." I told her with a sigh, "and getting in Lachlan's car seemed like the best way to do that."

Sheriff Forbes stared at me like I was an idiot.

Which I was.

"You got into the car of a stranger—who attacked you twice—just to get at your guardian?" She surmised incredulously.

The way she said it made it sound like the stupidest thing in the whole world. Like I was some immature child fighting for the attention of a busy parent.

Which, again, I was.

"Just, who is your guardian, young lady?" She asked.

I managed to sneak a glare in Matt's direction before looking back at the Sheriff. He was smirking, smugly—with his light gaze zeroed in on Lachlan—who still had his hands in the air.

"Damon Salvatore." I told her sullenly.

She looked puzzled. "Salvatore?" she echoed. "Are you descendants of the founding Salvatore family?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. I was adopted by Damon when I was four. Like I said, he moved us out here about a month ago."

The Sheriff stared at me for a moment, before nodding. "Alright." Then she strolled past me and straight up to Lachlan. "Listen," she said in a stony 'cop-voice.' "This is the second time I've had someone call in about you, thinking you might pose a threat to this young lady here. Next time, I don't care if she got in your car with her bags packed and ready to go—you've been officially classified as dangerous in this town, and I will be keeping a very close eye on you."

Lachlan nodded, totally too pale for a guy who claimed to fight vampires.

The Sheriff nodded at his car. "Get in, and leave, please." She requested. It wasn't really a request though, you could tell. With the force of the police department behind her words, and another cop standing literally right behind her, Lachlan got the order loud and clear.

He nodded his head hastily, and glanced one more time at me before jumping in his car.

I waved for a moment, as his car disappeared down the street, but only for a second. Matt stormed to my side and grabbed my hand, pushing it down to my side.

The sheriff walked over to me then.

"What you did, Miss Hamilton," she said stonily, "Was extremely foolish. You're very lucky that your friend here was smart enough to call us. And even if it turned out alright this time, you put yourself in a very dangerous situation that could have been far worse."

I considered telling her that there was no reason to worry about the 'could haves' and the 'what ifs' but then I noticed the gun at her waist and elected to keep my mouth shut.

"I will be calling your guardian—and informing him of exactly what happened."

I opened my mouth to protest, but she didn't give me the chance.

"_I WILL _be telling him everything. Including the reasons behind your decision to get into Mr. Myer's car. I recommend that next time you have a beef with Mr. Salvatore, you take it up with him. And not with dangerous strangers who you don't know."

I swallowed and nodded. She smiled—her job was done, and she had sufficiently scared the crap out of me _and_ Lachlan. She hopped in her car, and drove away—followed quickly by her back up.

I turned my narrowed eyes to Matt.

"I blame you for this." I told him furiously. "This is your fault."

**xXxXx**

My anger with him didn't seem to bother Matt.

In fact, he was firmly stuck on the belief that he had done the right thing.

"It was _stupid, idiotic, foolish_ and ANY other adjective you can think of that describes a total moron." He was ranting.

And it was those things. I had jumped into the car of a guy who I had accurately thought was talking me (keeping tabs, what's the difference?) and then told Matt not to call the Police. Then I had let the guy take my _blood_—even though there was no way I was telling Matt that—and trusted him enough to take me home.

Although, if you thought about it, he _had_ done the right thing.

"When I told you that you should do something to annoy Damon, I did _not _mean jeopardise your own life." He told me, looking at me with a furrowed brow-almost upset at my foolishness.

Hell, _I _was upset at my own foolishness.

"Of course you didn't, Matt," I sighed. "And I'm really, truly, totally, absolutely sorry for putting you through that."

Matt narrowed his eyes at me.

"You owe me." He said suddenly.

My eyes widened. "Say what?"

"You owe me," He said again, more firmly, even though a grin was slipping onto his face.

I scoffed, indignantly. "I do not."

He grinned. "You do. I don't care if you think I did something wrong. You owe me for saving your life."

"My life didn't need saving!" I protested. If anything, you _ruined _my life because Sheriff Forbes is going to tell Damon that I got into my stalkers car as I cry for attention!"

Matt shrugged. "Not my problem. You owe me."

I scowled at him.

"Fine." I decided, with a glare. "How do you suggest I _stop_ owing you?"

Matt grinned at me.

"You can come to Caroline's 'Sexy Suds' thing with me. She enlisted me today in fifth period, and you can be my moral support."

The Sexy Suds event was set for this Saturday—which meant it was about four days away. This didn't give me much time to come up with other plans that took priority.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You just want to keep an eye on me."

He grinned.

"…Maybe." He said vaguely, with his grin still on his face as he took a swig from his drink—the drink that I had bought him, by the way, as some sort of apology.

Evidently, it wasn't enough.

I rolled my eyes, but let it drop. I didn't really have any major issues with going to this thing. Maybe I could drop a bucket of water over Matt's head and make it look like an accident.

_Emma_

I jerked, suddenly, spinning around. Matt stared at me like I was insane, but I didn't look at him. I looked for Damon.

He had said my name.

"What the hell is up with you?" Matt asked quickly.

I narrowed my eyes around the bar.

He wasn't there. I would have seen him if he were. I could recognise him in a crowd of thousands—it was difficult. So I knew when I scanned the building that he wasn't inside. He wasn't here.

But he had said my name—

_Emma, help me._

I jumped again, my head turning so fast that I felt like I had whiplash. I then shrieked a little, when I came face to face with Stefen Salvatore.

Matt coughed as his drink went down the wrong way while he laughed. He coughed some of the liquid back into his glass and wiped his eyes as they began to tear up.

It was nice to have such a supportive friend.

I stared, wide eyed at Stefen as he smiled at me. "Jesus _Christ…!"_ I said loudly, glaring at him now. "You scared the holy crap out of me."

Stefen smiled slightly to himself.

"I apologise," he said calmly. "I'm here to talk to you."

I slumped in my chair, trying to slow my beating heart. "Right," I muttered sarcastically. "Course you are." I straightened my back again quickly, and frowned. "Hey, while you're here, can you get a message to your brother for me? Along the lines of Sheriff Forbes is a crackpot and doesn't know what she's talking about?"

Stefen smiled slightly to himself.

"I'm here from Damon, as a matter of fact." He informed me, completly ignoring my request. "I wouldn't worry about him. He's left town—it was sudden. Something came up."

I narrowed my eyes at Stefen.

That wasn't like Damon at all. Leaving me suddenly, or doing it for family.

Stefen didn't seem to be too bothered by my reaction.

"I'm sorry—but I think it's best to just leave him alone from now on."

He was up and gone before I could say anything more. I glared at his retreating back.

"I don't like that guy," Matt muttered, having cleaned up his spilt drink and regained full use of his lungs.

I nodded. "He's dodgy." I surmised. "Like he's hiding something…"

I did not trust Stefen Salvatore. And Damon wouldn't have just left me. Something was going on here—something that I was going to learn.

_Emma. Help me…_

**xXxXx**

**Chapter 18 finito! Hope you liked it! **

**PLEASE REVIEW! **

**G. **He ha


	19. The Wet and the Wild

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV_

"Are you sure this is what she meant by 'Sexy Suds?'" I frowned, staring down at my own boobs as they sat in my bikini. Home had no beaches, and I wasn't ever much of a pool fan, so the only bikini that I owned I had bought two years ago for a beach trip that I went on with Lily.

Unfortunately, at that point in time, I was going through I rather promiscuous stage concerning my clothing—something that Damon and Cameron both agreed was stupid and I kicked it pretty quickly.

Why I had never thrown away the white bikini was a mystery to me, and I decision I was personally regretting right now.

"It looks fine, you big wuss." Matt rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well." I muttered bitterly. "I'll be comforted when that piece of advice comes from someone who knows what I'm going through." I glanced at him. "All you have to do, Mr. Football Captain,is whip off that shirt of yours and the girls'll go gaga."

Mutt chuckled to himself.

"I'll have you know," I informed Matt stonily. "I am holding you personally responsible for this—and when the time comes, my revenge will be short, sweet and extremely uncomfortable for you."

Matt laughed.

I frowned.

"Oh come on," Matt said. "It's kind of funny."

There was nothing about his situation that I believed warranted so spirited entertainment at my expense.

"This bikini is going to be so see through by the end of the day, that _blind _people will be able to see what's underneath." I grumbled.

I looked back down at the shirt with a pout, fiddling with the ridiculous golden tassels that borders the white triangles and continued until they formed a knot at my back, and behind me neck. "God, why did I let you talk me into this?"

Matt smirked.

I rolled my eyes.

Since Thursday, I had done everything in my power to convince Matt that I could pay him back for 'saving my life' in another way—a way that didn't include me washing windows in a white see-through bikini at an event that would have all the fourteen year olds whipping out their video phones to post stuff on YouTube.

However, Matt was adamant.

Plus he had already told Caroline that I was going and even if I wasn't her biggest fan at the moment—I really didn't need another reason for her to come moseying on up to me with more accusations.

Even though I really would have enjoyed punching her in the face.

I told Matt this yesterday at school, as I sulked at the table with Matt, Tyler, Daphne and Jane.

Tyler had laughed obnoxiously after taking a bite out of his cafeteria hamburger. "Hamilton—you couldn't punch someone if your life depended on it."

I had glared at him while I took a bite out of my own cafeteria purchased sandwich.

Matt, meanwhile, had chuckled while Daphne and Jane had let out their high trills of giggled laughter. "I dunno, Ty," Matt had corrected him. "This ones got a lot of pent up rage."

I nodded, with a threatening glare on my face. "Yeah." I warned him. "Look out."

Tyler scoffed and continued to laugh.

But he was right, I concluded as Matt turned to the corner off the main road and towards the school. I couldn't hit a person (Caroline, or not) and make it actually mean something. Not someone who hadn't really done anything to me.

"We're here." Matt told me, pulling up alongside the road. It had been marked rather clearly where the actual washers were supposed to park their rides. And it was clear that it didn't matter how early it was (10:02 by my watch)—people were already starting to arrive.

I jumped out of the car, and took one last self-conscious look down at my own chest, before walking out around the car and towards the sign in desk, where Caroline was sitting in a ridiculously pink, floral, frilling bikini.

To be honest, it suited her.

"Morning Matt," She said brightly as we both approached. "Emma."

She wasn't holding the grudge I was holding at all. Damon had explained our relationship to her and she understood—and began to see herself as more important to him than I was.

At least, until, he hit her.

The rumours were flying around the entire school. Caroline had been knocked out at the Lockwood's party—and that was when Damon had disappeared. Stefen Salvatore and Elena Gilbert weren't helping the situation, spreading it like wild fire and telling everyone that Damon was 'dangerous' to be around.

Now _there _were a couple of people I would have less of a problem punching some time.

Now Caroline simply regarded me as another of her schoolfellows. Part of her was still crushing on Damon—the way a part of me always would be. But the other part of her felt sorry for me. Like she knew something that she wasn't telling me, and she pitied me because I couldn't escape Damon as easily as she could.

As if I needed to escape.

"Alright. So the owner of the car chooses how they want their car cleaned," Caroline explained to us, standing and walking around the side of her 'PAY HERE' desk, to grab us some towels and a bucket. "If they only want the outside done, it's $15.00, but if they want the inside _and _outside done, its an extra five."

I nodded, storing that piece of knowledge as I took the towels from her, while Matt took the buckets of sudsy water.

"We're washing the cars in groups, so you'll be with Bonnie—she's just over there." She pointed over to Bonnie—Elena Gilbert's dark haired friend with the secret smile and the intelligent eyes. "No freebies and no IOU's. We are a business, not a charity."

Then she was done with us, and she was moving onto the next people—a few guys from my English class who had come, sans their shirts, to stand behind us.

"Lets do this thing, yeah?" Matt laughed. I thought for a moment he might entertain himself by splashing me with the water from his bucket, but he seemed to have gotten the memo about me not wanting to get wet.

"As soon as this is done," I declared, lifting my hands to pull my hair back into a messy bun. "You and I are going shopping, and we're going to buy me a nice _black _bikini."

**xXxXx**

Elena Gilbert and Stefen Salvatore arrived about half an hour after we did—and I really wouldn't have noticed or cared if Matt hadn't.

Of course, there was no way Matt was going to miss Elena's arrival, so I had prepared myself for a little background reckon work on her boyfriend while he moped.

Bonnie, it seemed, was having none of it.

"Uhuh," she warned him, when she caught him staring. "No. None of that tortured pining stuff."

I smirked to myself, while I washed the left hand window of the car.

"I'm just observing." Matt said indignantly.

Both Bonnie and I shared a sceptical glance, before Bonnie nodded her head. "Uh huh," she said sarcastically. The next car pulled up just as my towel dropped a little water on me—so I was a bit preoccupied trying to get rid of that while Bonnie chatted to Tiki.

"Oh, Tiki," she caught the girl's attention. "This one's yours."

Tiki groaned. "Why do I always get the home-y ones? Just to be clear, you car's a POS."

I wrinkled my nose, still rubbing at the water on my shirt, but watching Tiki and the car driver made me feel a little annoyed.

"I mean, we can wash it—but its still a POS." Tiki continued.

"You don't have to be rude." Bonnie snapped at her, clearly not taking Tiki's attitude the way Matt and I were—with clear ignorance.

"Nah," Tiki said, "rude is uglying up the road with that junker."

I frowned at Matt. "Is _everyone_ here this shallow and vapid?" I asked.

Matt pressed a hand to his heart. "Oh, you wound me."

I rolled my eyes and walked over to his side of the car. "Just so you know," Matt said with a light playfulness in his voice. "You're pretty much giving all the guys a free show." He motioned to my shirt.

I glowered at him. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't made me come—Whoa!"

I was distracted from my snarky reply when the bucket that Tiki was filling exploded. Tiki screamed and jumped back—but not fast enough to avoid the flying water.

"What the—? Oh, my god. What the—?"

Matt made a move to go and help her but I grabbed his arm.

"OH NO!" I shouted out, pulling him back and cowering behind him. I had seen the spurt of water coming our way—and the tiny droplet on the bikini would have been the least of my worries if Matt couldn't act as my human shield.

"You girl," he laughed, before walking quickly around behind the car where I was safe from the water spray, and grabbing a towel, going to Tiki's rescue.

I quickly checked the bikini. It was still coloured solidly—dry. I thanked god for a moment, before peeking out form behind the car to see what had happened. Matt had gained control of the hose that hated Tiki so much, and he given her the towel that he had grabbed. She stood there, meaningless for a moment, as she realised that her make up, her hair and her _bikini_ were totally wet.

I looked over at Bonnie, who was standing where she had been, a vacant, nervous look on her face.

"Don't worry," I assured her emerging from around the car, now that the threat of an out of control hose was gone, "you defended that guy over there. Nothing's going to haunt you."

Instead o the amused grin I anticipated, Bonnie looked at me with wide eyes and an alarmed stance. "What?"

I laughed, a little confused, but expanded. "I'm just saying that I doubt that karma's going to come after you that hard."

**xXxXx**

_**IF YOU HAVE ANY REMOTE INTEREST IN THIS FIC, AT ALL, YOU MUST READ THIS AUTHORS NOTE! HIGH IMPORTANCE I TELL YOU!**_

**First of all guys, I want to apologise. You've all be such dedicated readers, and so flattering even though I've been the crappiest updater and author on this site. I want to thank you all for the interest you've shown this story. **

**Unfortunately, I must go on to tell you that I've underestimated how difficult my workload would be school-wise, this year. I'm not giving up on this story—not by a long shot. Either you guys are going to have to deal with long updates, or I could possibly negotiate some sort of hiatus deal. **

**Since we're halfway through season 2 on the tv at this point, there's no way I'm going to catch up in the near future. If I continue with the detail that I've been doing, this story will end up 100+ chapters long and I simply don't have the time to dedicate myself to something like that. **

**So here's the plan. **

**Review, or PM me with thoughts or suggestions on what you want me to do. I have an idea on how I could continue this fic—but I'm not sure if it's something you want to hear. **

**I am not stopping this fic. I will not give up. **

**Just give me some time, and your thoughts, and we'll sort this mess out. **

**Again, I'm very, very, very, very sorry. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. **

**Cheers. **

**G. **


	20. The Lunge

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV_

"Okay," I groaned, as I dumped the sponge into the bucket and lifted my dirty hand up to massage my neck. "Matt. I you ever do me a 'favour' again, I will be forced to kill you slowly and horribly."

So I was complaining. And maybe exaggerating a little. But, considering he was supposed to be my friend in this town, the things he put me through were a little painful.

Matt looked affronted. "What?" He said suddenly, stepping back. "_Why?"_

I lifted my head to glower at him.

"Because I never _ever _want to 'owe you one' _ever _again." I told him stonily.

Mutt chuckled, shaking his head as he returned his attention to the car he was washing.

The sponge that I had just dropped in the bucket couldn't even help me with my problem. My back and neck hurt like crazy—and water running over them might have been a little help (not as much as a warm shower, mind you.) But not _this _water. This water was dirty and brown and covered in dead bug guts and bird poop and all the other crap that people got stuck all over their cars.

That water wouldn't be coming near me, even if I weren't wearing a white shirt.

"Didn't Caroline schedule _any _breaks?" I whined.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Nope."

I rolled my eyes and groaned again, lifting the gross sponge from the bucket and pushing it with a little force against the window. The dirty grey water trickled through my fingers as the sponge emptied itself.

I pulled a face, that Matt saw. "Come on, Em," he laughed. "Man up."

I faintly remembered telling Matt in the early days of our friendship, so I frowned when he threw the phrase back at me.

"I am, by definition, a woman." I snapped lamely. "_You _man up."

Yeah, not my best.

Matt snorted, but left it alone.

I sighed.

"Plans tonight?" Matt asked, upon seeing my sour expression.

I grumbled. "None. Because I have no social life and have to email people from the old home." I sighed. "And return that stupid DVD I was going to watch with Damon."

Matt sighed.

"Sorry, Em," he said—and I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, like it's your fault that Damon's flaky…" I laughed.

Matt shrugged.

"Just promise me you won't go and console yourself with your stalker, right?" Matt said suavely.

I nodded, with an eye-roll.

"No time." I sighed bitterly. "I've got to go and return the stupid DVD."

**xXxXx **

_Early February 2000_

"Emma, my darling," Damon's loud voice echoed through the small apartment and in her hiding spot, Emma smiled excitedly. "Guess whose home?"

Damon walked into the apartment, and tossed the house keys onto the kitchen bench while pocketing his car keys. He shrugged his new leather coat off and threw it over the back of the lounge, and listened for his 'ward' wherever she had chosen to hide from him this time.

"Emma?" he called into the house, checking to see whether or not his—well, to be honest he still hadn't quite figured that part out—was conscious.

Because when that little girl slept, she _really slept_.

Of course, when she didn't immediately respond, Damon tensed. The little girl had been important enough to Katherine to keep—even though she was now dead and gone. If Katherine had only seen the child in a psychic vision given to her by her witch-y servant, Emily, and had thought her important enough to have Damon watch her—no, _protect_ her—then it was a small leap to think that other people might have been interested in her.

His shoulder coiled and his knees bent, preparing himself to attack anything that might be inside the room. His senses spread out and he could then quickly realise that there was only one heart beat inside this room.

Quickly after, he heard Emma's muffled giggle from one of the rooms down the hall, and then she was silent again. Damon found himself smiling a bit. His muscles all relaxed, and he chuckled.

He strolled into the kitchen and grabbed one of the microwave lasagnes that he had stocked up for her only a few days ago. From the number of lasagnes still sitting in the fridge he could tell she hadn't eaten that evening.

He stuck it in the microwave and pressed a couple of buttons, before turned to lean on the bench. "Where are you Emma?" He shouted out to the seemingly empty house.

He heard another muffled giggle, and smiled again.

"Emma?" he called again, as he walked away from the open kitchen, and began to walk slowly down the hall. "Where's my girl hiding?"

He momentarily stuck his head into the bathroom, even though he knew absolutely she wasn't hiding in there. For starters, he couldn't _smell her. _Her blood has always smelt to him—he was used to it now, and could probably pick her from a crowd of thousands if he wanted to. It smelt different, scented almost, and it made Damon's instincts want to kill her as soon as possible.

But Katherine had wanted this little girl in the 1800s.

And if he was honest with himself, the chit was growing on him.

The bathroom that he was pretending to look through was rather too personal for his tastes. But it was nice, in another way—a way that Stefen would never ever find out about.

Emma's bath toys sat on the ledge to the side of the back, with little plastic pictures stuck to the walls surrounding it. Her toothbrush—something pink and equally Disney princess, was sitting in a small alcove above the sink, beside her 'Tinkerbell' body glitter that she had begged him to buy her.

It smelt sickly sweet and Damon thought it sounded like a stripper product, but when she put it on her face like paint, he couldn't help but smile.

After he had spent enough time pretending to search for her in her bathroom, he walked back into the corridor.

He quickly poked a head into the room that he stayed in whenever he was around, noting the stylish curtains that he had had installed and the warm looking king size bed that he had purchased.

That was always a nice place to bring _company_ whenever Emma had sleepovers at friends houses.

On that note, however, it hadn't seen much action lately. It had also recently become Emma's favourite place to sleep whenever she had the chance, so now when Damon thought of his bed, he didn't think of sexy lingerie and hot bodies that smelt delicious—no, he thought of the small little seven year old who had nightmares about clowns and always felt safer when she slept in his bed.

And he could admit to himself that he didn't mind. It was nice, to have such a small innocent thing trust him so completely.

Not that he'd ever tell _anyone _that.

As far as the outside world was concerned, he was a monster.

But Emma knew better than to hide in his room, because Damon knew every nook and cranny of the place like the back of his hand. There was no place Emma could hide in there that Damon couldn't find her.

Well, there was no place in the entire city where she could hide and not be found, but he didn't want to spoil her fun just yet.

He withdrew his head from his own room and made his way towards the final door in the corridor—hers. He strolled slowly towards her room, as though he hadn't known since the moment he opened the door that she was curled up beneath a pile of clothes in the corner of her wardrobe.

"Hey _Emmy_... have you been hiding from me?"

He was only greeted with a shrill giggle and a bright smile. Emma always loved having Damon around. She would never not want to see him.

**xXxXx**

"GO AWAY!"

I was in a decidedly bad mood as I stormed into my hotel room that evening. I hadn't managed to stay dry the entire day, as ate in the afternoon Matt decided I wasn't getting in the spirit of things and sprayed me any way. My shirt hadn't ended up being as see through as I remembered, and he had quickly offered me his shirt (not that I had given him much of a choice,) and he had given me a ride home.

Still.

My hair was a mess, I had realised as soon as I had gotten home, and I couldn't exactly remember when I squashed the nasty bug on my face that I saw in the mirror and had probably been there for hours.

But that wasn't really the reason for my irritable mood. It was petty of me to be so angry with Damon again, just because I had to return that stupid DVD to the video store.

I mean, he was a twenty-three year old guy, who had devoted a lot of his life to raising me. My jealousy was unfounded and unfair. He deserved to have someone in his life as well.

…Hopefully, not Caroline for much longer, but that wasn't the point.

"GET AWAY FROM MY HOME, YOU MOTHER F—"

"EM!"

I was silenced, but didn't stop glaring at the door that Damon stood behind.

Despite my many, many hours of internalised ranting at myself about why Damon was genetically a total butthead, I still couldn't even look at him without feeling an unimaginable amount of anger.

Which is exactly why I refused to open my door for him.

"Emmy," I heard his voice through my door, after I stormed away from it to sulk on my bed. "Emmy, I'm sorry. You need to let me in…"

If he thought that was going to do it, he was sorely mistaken. Insisting weakly at my door that I needed to do something for him was a bad move.

And calling me Emmy?

Oh I do not think so.

"I don't need to do _anything_, Damon."

I thought that was all I had to say. But then, following that, I realised that as long as he wanted to get inside he would remain at the door, and he would _have _to listen to my rant.

"If you think," I began my new tirade, "that after _everything _I'm just going to let you into my home—well, _motel room,_ but that's your fault too—then you have another thing coming to you."

There was silence from outside me room.

"I mean, sure. You're bound to get bored in a dead little town like this," I continued, "but sating that boredom with Caroline and then going ape-crazy on her like she's telling everyone that you did? And ignoring me and leaving me to get a message from your brother who told me you're leaving town? It's not fair, Damon, and I'm not putting up with it."

I heard Damon sigh from outside.

"What are you going to do?" He asked. The words themselves would have sounded rude, if it weren't for the resigned way in which he said them.

"I don't know." I sighed.

I remained at the door—only feet away from Damon if you didn't consider the door between us. As I spoke, a wave of tiredness washed over me and I slumped against the door, letting my back slide down the wood until I was sitting, and leaning against it.

"I can probably get a bus ticket out of here," I said, "and then I can go back home. Cam will let me stay at his place, and I can start going back to school. I'll think of some excuse to explain why I've been away for so long."

Damon was quiet.

I frowned slightly, not quite understanding.

Damon was never quiet.

Damon never shut up. He never gave up, and if I didn't want to let him inside, he would have just knocked it down with the unnatural strength he possessed sometimes.

Why was he being quiet?

I waited for a few more moment, to hear what he was finally going to say. I could hear his feet shuffling outside. He was still here.

He just wasn't talking.

"Em," I heard him say incredibly quietly. "Please… let me in."

_Crap._

Scowling at how pathetic my resolve seemed to be, I reached for the locks. After undoing the paddle, flicking the lock and pulling out the chain, I put my favourite glare on my face and pulled the door open.

"_What?"_ I asked seething.

I had time to register his nearly black eyes before he lunged at me.

**xXxXx**

**Cheers. Please review. **

**G**


	21. The Revelations

**I'M BACK, BITCHEZ. **

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV_

"I need you to get me some blood."

You know, in all my life, I couldn't quite recall ever being truly speechless.

There was this one time. Back at _home _home, when I'd spent the entire day out with Lily, I remember walking through the mall, with three bags of new clothing that I'd used Damon's money to buy. I had bought this cute new skirt that didn't look too slutty, in my opinion, because I was a judgy kinda gal who tried not to be that person people like me judged. Lily had bought a bunch of ass-fitting jeans and were both had our fair share and new, low cut but demure t-shirts and we'd been chatting about them when we'd seen Cameron.

Out with a girl.

Honest to god, I couldn't quite remember I time before that when I hadn't thought Cammers was well and truly gay.

So Lils and I had watched as Cameron had seduced Brianna Wallace from about thirty metres away, and both of us had been unable to come up with anything to say about it.

And even that. Even that complete and total shock that I'd felt when I watched Cameron seal the deal with a kiss and realised that he wasn't riding the sausage train couldn't even begin to compare to how I felt now.

"What?" I demanded when I regained control of my voice.

"Blood." Damon urged. "I need you to get me some blood."

I was initially only made angrier when Damon lunged forward. His hands latched around my shoulders and I shouted out in surprise, attempting to take a step back. I felt his teeth scrape against my neck and jerked backwards slightly—not oo far thought. It was only then that his grip on my shoulders faltered and he fell to his knees, however, I realised that he hadn't in fact lunged at me.

He had _collapsed_ on me.

"_Jesus," _I had said quickly, my eyes widening to their limits as I watched him. He was still swaying slightly, his arms awkwardly in the air—seemingly stuck there after they had slid off my shoulders. Automatically, my own arms had came up; holding him at the chest, and making sure he didn't fall any more.

I quickly realised that that position wasn't going to work. There was no way in hell I was going to be able to lift Damon and pull him further inside.

So I'd staggered backwards, my feet moving as far as they could before my knees buckled under his dead weight. I fell to my knees to face him—pausing only to reach out and push the door close behind us.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Damon had just moaned incoherently. **  
**

This was not good, I concluded instantly. His head had fallen into the crook of my neck and he seemed to be breathing heavily. His fists were clenching—like he was in some sort of pain.

"Da_mon._" I said frowning at what I could see of his head. "What _happened?"_

Again, he groaned.

Our conversation continued in this fashion for a good couple of minutes, before he finally managed to mumble out a good response.

"Stefan..." he groaned.

I inhaled sharply, my heart rate increasing as I lifted my hand and pressed his head closer to my own neck—clutching him to me. He groaned—I could only assume it was from the pain.

Stefan?

Stefan did this?

"Oh_, bubee_," I said with a pout, forgetting my anger.

Damon managed to find the will power to lift his head and glower at me for the nickname. I grinned at him, pleased that he could still hear me. His head rested back at my neck.

"Don't—call me—"

"—yeah, yeah," I interrupted him. "Shut up and get on the bed."

Ignoring the shivers than ran up my spine following that particular sentence, I worked on hauling his head away from my shoulder. He lifted it slightly, with more difficulty than when he'd glared at me, before letting it lull back in its original position. I frowned at the pressure on my neck as he inhaled again, loud enough for me to hear. "Come on, big guy," I persisted, trying to once again push myself to my feet. "Help me out here."

He pushed, his feet taking some of his own weight. His action helped me, as I hastily stood and pushed. The result was him falling away from me, and landing with a harsh thud on my bed.

He'd let out a raspy "ouch" before letting his head lull back onto my pillow. Moving around hurriedly, trying to make him more comfortable and not having any real idea of what to do. So, I reverted to my old ways and asked.

"Uh," I said frantically, eyes darting everywhere except towards Damon. "What do—what do I do? Damon?"

Which brought us to this very moment, because when he'd stopped moving, opened his eyes and stared me down, saying "I need you to get me some blood," my brain pretty much when into break down.

"Why the _hell_ do you need blood?"

There could still have been some sort of real explanation for all of this. Some sort of, uhm, reason why Damon needed blood to get better that was totally rational and that didn't instantly make him some sort of psycho.

"I'm a vampire, Em."

Right. So Lachlan had gotten to him. Somehow... Damon had been brainwashed. And _right _Lachlan was trying to protect me from Damon who obviously had to be a vampire.

Of course, I didn't really have any time to think of options because Damon was somehow from the bed, to right in front of me (swaying however unsteadily) and I screamed.

"Emma. I need some blood. And I need you to get it for me."

I watched as his eyes went dark, veins extending from his eyes and down across his cheekbones (the same ones I'd fantasized about for so long). His jaw dropped a little, seeing his teeth become the things of story books.

"What the _f—?"_

"Please, Emma. Please."

I stared at him. The veins retracted and the grip on my arms, the one that I hadn't really noticed because of shock, loosened. "I'm sorry... I just..." he gasped. "I won't hurt you. I promise, Emma. I wouldn't... I _couldn't." _

I stepped back, letting my back hit the wall gently as I stared at him. My mouth opened and closed a couple of times.

What the hell was this? Did this all mean that Lachlan was telling the truth. Telling me that I was unsafe where I was? That Damon wasn't a safe option for me to be living with?

I couldn't remember a time when he hadn't protected me. Damon was _Damon._ I'd been angry at him, sad, tired and exhausted by him. But I'd never been truly scared with him around.

Because this was Damon.

I was shaking. It was embarrassing that he could see but I was shaking.

"Em—talk to me." He rasped. He stepped forward.

I pressed myself closer to the wall, and squeezed my eyes shut.

Then it hit me.

This was Damon.

This was _Damon. _

This was not some monster that Lachlan could convince me was scary (even if he was, just a bit). He didn't scare _me. _Damon didn't scare me. Damon protected me. And there was no way in hell I was leaving him in this shape, crazy psycho _vampire _or not.

I still wasn't really convinced he was a vampire.

Because, come on.

_Vampire. _

"Day—Damon." I coughed, finally getting my voice back and flushing. "Where do I...?"

Damon lurched forward (and I'm proud to say I didn't even wince) and he hugged me. "The, uh, the hospital." I hesitated for a second, before hugging him back. I decided not to even ask how I was going to figure out the hospital thing. I was a big girl. Anyway, Damon had moved, stroking the back of my head with his shaking hand. "Em... thank you. God,"

I pushed him off. 'Yeah, yeah. Get off me." I pushed him slightly. "Lie down and stop exhausting yourself you butthead."

He stumbled backwards, setting himself on the bed and letting his head fall back onto the pillow. I grabbed my keys from the bench, and moved, opening the door.

"Em, thank you." He rasped from my bed.

I smiled at him. "I'll be back soon, Damon. Don't go anywhere."

I pulled the door close behind me and let out a huge sigh. Right. So my guardian was a vampire. That sure as hell explained a lot, as long as, you know, suspended all my beliefs about everything.

But now. I had some blood to procure.

**.:.**

I ended up getting pigs blood.

It would probably piss him off but in the long run, I had no real idea about blood compatibility and those who drank it. Like, did some blood types taste better than others? Like, could you be an O neg type of drinker, or an AB pos? Or maybe...

God I'm messed up in the head.

In the long run, the butcher shop was only a couple of blocks away from my hotel room. Sure, the butcher had looked at me like I was all kinds of certifiably insane, but I had the blood for Damon anyway.

There was a screech of tires, and I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn't even notice it.

But I certainly noticed when two pairs of strong arms grabbed me from behind. I was kicking and screaming before I could think about what was actually going on. The brown paper bag of pigs blood fell, exploding on the side walk and covering my shoes.

A hand was pressed across my mouth and two more sets of hands grabbed at my feet. Then I was lifted into the air and thrown into the back of what I could only assume was some sort of clichéd black van.

I recognised the driver instantly.

"LACHLAN." I roared. "Now is not the time. Freaking let me go."

He observed me with a grim frown. "Emma, I'm sorry. But this time, you don't call the shots. There's been some developments—we got the results from your blood test and there's no way you can stay here."

What?

Wait, what?

"What, Lachlan—what are you doing?"

In the past hour, I'd realised that my guardian (the only man I fully trusted in the world) was a vampire, and I was scared more by Lachlan's look.

It was the last look I remembered, before a smelly cloth was pressed across my nose and my world went black.

How freaking cliché.

**.:.**

**Annndd I'm gone, bitchez... **

**Right. **

**I am the flakiest Author in history. **

**I am SO sorry to every one of my dedicated readers that I left this hanging for so long. I fully intend on continuing, now that I knew exactly where this is going. **

**So, here's the plan.**

**This is the LAST chapter of this fic (the Anomaly) which has turned away from its original path (to be its own, multi-chapter DAMON/OC fic). Instead, it will become the PROLOGUE to a better, multi-chapter Damon/OC fic (with name that I have not yet determined). It will involve all the same characters, only a year later, catching up with the television show around end season 2 and start season 3. **

**That's the plan, and I hope you're all good with it. In a final round of reviews for this fic, you could give me ideas and thoughts—basically tell me what you want to see in go down between Damon and Emma, and the other characters. **

**Cheers, and again, I'm REALLY sorry, **

**G. **


	22. The Emails

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_TO: Me! ()_

_FROM: LACREEP ()_

_SUBJECT: ?_

_Em. _

_I thought you were cool with this. You said you'd get me blood and I thought we could talk about it. Where are you ?_

_At least tell me that you're safe. I understand that you're freaked, but I don't know why _you_ would lie about it. I'm worried, and no matter what you say about me, I wouldn't ever hurt you. Em, there's some stuff I should talk to you about. I don't know how to do this with you gone, and I was watching you for a reason. I was... _

_Look. Just please reply. You don't have to come back. _

_Just tell me you're alright. _

_Damon_

_(PS. If you have just disappeared and this is one of your jokes, I am so not impressed.) _

_TO: LACREEP ()_

_FROM: Me! ()_

_SUBJECT: Re: ?_

_Damon. _

_Don't email me again. I'm not interested. I know what you are and I am not anywhere you will be able to find me. _

_Stay away from me. You're a monster. _

_Emma. _

**.:.**

**Final chapter, and complete. **

**Please review. I'm going to start work on the sequel now. **

**Xx**

**G. **


	23. AUTHORS NOTE

**GASP. I've done it! I've done the dreaded 'fake update that is just a message that will inevitably peeve people off'!**

**Sorry. **

**ANYWAY hey guys!**

**Just letting you know that the first chapter of the sequel is up, if you'd like to go check it out. Congrats to those who guessed that the emails were faked and I hope that the new fic doesn't let you down. It's called 'The Sheltered' and is set second half of the second season (solving my previous dilemmas on the whole continuity thing that I had a couple of chapters back. **

**Thanks for all the amazing feedback thus far, and please keep it up! Remember, if there is anything that you want to see in the sequel, let me know in a review (either for this A/N, or for Chapter 1 of the sequel) so that I can get it all sorted. **

**Thanks so much for your time and patience guys, **

**G. **


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